


Spectrum

by Shadowblayze



Category: Final Fantasy VIII, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry has the best and worst luck, Sorcerer/Sorceress!Harry, Takes place mostly in FFVIII, empath!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-06
Updated: 2016-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-18 11:49:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5927287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowblayze/pseuds/Shadowblayze
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Empaths are rare, even in a world of magic-users. Harry's unexpected ability causes changes and when he is whisked away from Earth and Privet Drive a new story begins to unfold. Can Harry survive? What will happen to those he (accidentally) left behind?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

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Emotions are complex things, and no one knew this better than six-year-old Harry Potter- for you see, little Harry was _special_.

Not in a freaky way- no matter what his family told him- nor in a strictly magical way- as the wizarding world would tell him- but in a deeply intuitive way that only an Empath could appreciate.

To better understand little Harry and his highly unique gift one must first understand that Harry was born to a family who could wield magic- an internal supernatural energy that could be harnessed and purposefully manipulated by only a select few people in the world.  Their numbers account for less than one percent of the world’s total population, in fact.  Due to their low numbers and a historical precedent of persecution the magic-wielders of the world had withdrawn entirely from their nonmagical brethren nearly six centuries prior to little Harry’s birth.

Of course, darkness, greed, and bloodshed were universal, and in fact little Harry’s parents had opposed a rapidly-rising Dark Lord named Voldemort.  Their resistance to the madman ended up costing their lives- as the friend that they had entrusted their Secret to had secretly joined the madman and consequently betrayed them.

Their former Headmaster and the leader of the vigilante group who opposed the Dark Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters- the Order of the Phoenix- had not been privy to their last minute switch from their friend Sirius Black to Peter Pettigrew and therefore sent the lovable- but dense and rather intimidating- Hagrid to fetch Harry from the ruins of the Potter Cottage. 

The Headmaster- a venerable man who had spent more than a few years on the darker side of magic before coming back to his senses- was desperate to shelter Harry from those who would seek to bribe their way into being the small toddler’s Guardian for less-than-honorable reasons.  The Headmaster was also unsure of the boy’s Godfather’s status, as Albus had thought that Sirius was the Potter family’s Secret Keeper.  Therefore the Headmaster made the executive decision to erect Blood Wards around the residence of Petunia Evans-Dursley, the sister of the newly-late Lily Evans-Potter- Harry’s mother- as a way to keep little Harry safe and away from those who would use him.  As Chief Warlock he could seal the Potter Will and freeze the Potter assets until the boy came of age- which would keep little Harry’s family’s legacies far away from the greedy vultures who wished to lay claim to the boy’s rightful inheritance, as it was not a trifling thing- while also keeping the matter of guardianship firmly in the Headmaster’s hands as the Chief Warlock.

It was a blatant abuse of power- not to mention trust- and the Headmaster was acutely aware of the fact that Petunia Evans-Dursley loathed magic and everything- and everyone associated with it- so as an additional measure to appease Petunia the Headmaster tightly bound the young child’s magic before he left Privet Drive that night, praying that little Harry would grow up to be the kind, brave boy that his parents would have wanted him to be.

Unfortunately for the Headmaster, all of his well-reasoned, desperate measures only made things worse for little Harry.

Among the magical peoples- roughly one percent of the world’s population, making their numbers hover around the four-hundred-fifty-million mark- there exists an even smaller subset of those who can utilize talents that are nearly legendary even amongst the magical populations.

These are called the Disparate.

Highly coveted by the ruling parties of all the magical nations- down to even the smallest Amazonian tribes- these special few are the Elementals, the Espers, the Changelings, and the Empaths.

The thing about the Disparate is that their gifts work in tandem with their innate magic, not necessarily due to the magic itself.  So when the Headmaster had sealed off little Harry’s magic to appease his Aunt, the man had unintentionally triggered the boy’s Empathetic gifts to manifest early on.  Most Disparate start to manifest around the age of seven or so- though researchers have never been able to properly ascertain why.  However, with Harry’s Empathy coming to the fore at such a tender age, the small boy was unable to properly control his gifts.

Empathy- at its core- is a tactile-based gift. 

Most Empaths never move past the tactile-stage, actually; though the Empath ability was formidable even in its weakest manifestation.  However, the first, instinctive use of Empathy is what is colloquially referred to as ‘Leaching’.  What occurs is that the Empath touches a surface- be it animate or inanimate- and their Empathy instinctively reaches out and absorbs a ‘sample’ of the object’s emotional impression or a person’s emotional state.  It is dangerous for the Empath, especially a young, untrained one, as the absorbed emotions are experienced in a first-person manner instead of being held separate from the Empath’s own emotions and thoughts.

Harry- being a small, terrified little boy locked inside a small cupboard and barraged with emotional feedback from everything he touched- developed a habit of rubbing the scar on his forehead to try and center himself while wearing layers of clothing, despite the sweltering heat- as the cupboard was stuffy at best and stifling at worst.  He suffered from terrible Panic Attacks- which entirely deserved their capital letters- and thus the Dursley family were wholly willing and able to shove him into the cupboard for as long as humanly possible without the boy actually dying.

Eventually Harry’s calming habit- and consequent unconscious Leaching- resulted in the small boy absorbing the sliver-shard of the Dark Lord Voldemort’s soul that had been unintentionally left behind the night the madman had attacked Harry and his parents.  Fortunately for Harry- because his magic was bound and unable to properly assist him- the Blood Wards acted and the young child also absorbed the remnants of his mother’s soul that had lived inside the Wards.  This was fortuitous because between the two of them- the Dark Lord soul shard being that of a cold, psychotic man and his mother’s being a sliver of a vibrant, vivacious woman- little Harry was able to see two distinct paths and how they played out. 

So, by the time both of those soul impressions had been absorbed and properly catalogued- a natural Empathic defense that was enhanced by both soul’s knowledge of the Mind Arts, meditation, and other scraps of exocentric knowledge- Harry was a rather mature, but well-balanced child for all the extra knowledge that lurked inside his head.  The Blood Wards- greatly weakened, as Lily’s soul had assimilated into her son and therefore was no longer sustaining them and Petunia Evans-Dursley was not actively attempting to feed them with positive feelings or actions- assisted as best they could in suppressing the truly terrible memories as part of a last ditch effort to preserve the child’s innocence.

As a result of his new maturity, however, Harry gained a measure of control over his Empathy.  No longer terrified of being around people that might accidentally touch him and inadvertently cause him to fly into a Panic Attack- as he learned how to ‘turn off’ his Leaching ability- or being instantly overwhelmed from accidentally touching an object that contained intense emotional imprints- the Panic Attacks decreased and Harry was able to exist outside of his cupboard without causing a Scene.

Just in time for the beginning of Primary School, too!

His Aunt was so relieved that his Panic Attacks had evened out that the she hadn’t protested the two sets of fingerless costume gloves that Harry had taken to wearing religiously, nor did she complain about the boy’s habit of wearing long sleeved shirts.  Though, Harry usually rolled up the sleeve on the left side, while the right sleeve was used as a makeshift barrier between himself and whatever he was touching.  Seeing as how she had gotten him decent clothes- the cheapest pound store bargain bins clothes or not- instead of saddling him with Dudley’s dreaded hand-me-downs, Harry went along with the ‘germaphobe’ fiction that his Aunt spewed as her nervous way of explaining away his idiosyncrasies to the Primary School staff and neighbor’s alike.

Upstairs someone began to move around, breaking Harry from his reverie and causing dust to float down and irritate his nose.  The small boy who lay on the ratty toddler mattress wrinkled the tiny appendage in irritation before casting a look around his forlorn cupboard.  The room was dusty and there were cleaning supplies on the shelves.  The area was about five feet across, but nearly eight feet tall, as it existed underneath the house’s staircase.  Knowing that he’d soon need to help his Aunt with breakfast the boy pulled on his long-sleeved shirt, trousers, socks, and gloves.

Harry knew his Aunt hated him, but he _despised_ it when she touched him.  Even with his mother’s memories to help him understand the raging conflicting maelstrom of emotions that constantly drove his Aunt and her actions, Petunia touching him gave Harry a _migraine_ , so he tried to minimize contact with her as much as possible.  So, when the harsh raps sounded against his cupboard door, Harry was already moving before his Aunt’s shrill.  “Up, boy, up now!”  Sounded from outside.

_Hopefully school will be better._   Harry thought as he made his way towards the kitchen, absently dancing around the swipe his Aunt aimed at his messy-haired head.

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_Well, that was bloody wicked._   Harry thought sarcastically as he leaned back again the outside wall of the Primary school’s playground.  A month into his Primary school life and Harry was already tired of it.  The work was fairly remedial, as the knowledge from his mother’s and Tommy Riddle’s time in school buoying him, even with him not actively reaching for the knowledge.  He needed to make the information his own, of course, so it wasn’t as if he was a forty year old man stuffed into a child’s body, but the knowledge definitely gave him an advantage.

Granted, with the number of _disadvantages_ and _distractions_ his Empathy presented, his advantage pretty much just leveled the playing field.  Being constantly distracted by emotional bursts from idiots touching him- seriously, how much quieter did he have to be before they would get with the program and leave him alone?- was a major distraction, after all.  Not to mention the sheer amount of emotional imprints left behind on the not-so-gently recycled school materials that all but screamed at him to _pay attention_.

His latest aggravation was the new game ‘Harry Hunting’, in which Dudley- Harry’s cousin- and Dudley’s so-called friends would chase the smaller boy down and try their best to send him into a Panic Attack while also attempting to inflict physical harm at the same time.

Harry _hated_ the game.  The only thing that made it somewhat bearable was that children’s emotions were fairly simple compared to adults, and thus were much easier to work through.

_I wish I could go somewhere I could be free.  Somewhere where I was wanted._   Harry thought, absently rubbing at his chest as his frequent heartburn issue flared up.  The boy grimaced as he felt the familiar burn of acid at the back of his throat and he nearly groaned aloud when he realized that his small packet of antacids had fallen out of his pocket at some point.  It was a frequent annoyance, and the Doctors had been quite upset at the damage his constant heartburn had inflicted on his throat, so Harry always had his antacids on him, as his Aunt was desperate to keep the neighbors from having anything else to gossip about concerning the young child.

Harry sighed heavily, stuffing his hands into his pockets before ducking his head and hunching his shoulders as the sky finally broke and the rain that had been threatening the city for the past three days finally began to fall.

_Perfect_.  He thought sourly as he dashed between the school buildings and tried to plot out a course back to Number Four that didn’t involve him becoming utterly drenched.  _Let’s do this then_.  He thought grimly as he bounced a little on his toes and dashed across the wet concrete walks.

Unfortunately, less than a block away from Number Four Dudley and the Stooges caught up to Harry.

The blonde haired hefty Dursley boy all but bowled over the small, dark-haired Potter child, knocking Harry’s glasses off his face and causing him to hit the pavement with a wet-sounding thwack.  Childishly cruel laughter filled Harry’s suddenly fuzzy ears as down became up and sideways became straight.  Meaty fists found purchase in his back and someone twisted a hand in his hair, but Harry was too distracted by the slippery feel off blood trickling down his face and the copper tang that had filled his mouth.

_I hate it here._   Harry thought fiercely as the hand in his hair twisted and wrenched- and some part of Harry idly noted that he might have a bald spot there if that kept up- and the hits on his back began to throb.  Someone turned him over and all Harry could see was the blurred outlines of his tormentors, their faces cast into a grey light by the swirling clouds above them and the increasingly-worsening rain falling all around them.

_I **hate** it here. _  Harry thought again, a roaring sound building in his ears as all of the torment he had endured blended and melded with the torment of Tommy Riddle and even the bullying that Lily Evans had experienced.  Harry- lost in his reverie- didn’t notice that his tormentors had backed up nor did he know that his eyes- already a bright, vibrant green that seemed to glow from within- began to burn brightly as the tide of magic within him struggled valiantly against the last vestiges of the child-block that had been cast on him the night he had been left on his Aunt’s doorstep all those years ago.

**_I hate it here_**.  He thought one last time before there was a spinning sensation that seemed to center around his bellybutton that _wrenched_ and _heaved_ before the world blurred out of focus.

Then there was only darkness.

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Layla Westron had lived in the rugged mountains of the Trabia region for nearly fifty years- the majority of her life, honestly.  Until recently she had lived here with her husband, Kent, but after his death she had chosen to live alone in the home they had carved out of the unforgiving rocks in the most isolated area of the Bika Snowfields.

Layla’s isolation from the rest of the world wasn’t entirely due to her taciturn nature, however, for you see, Layla was a Sorceress.

Sorceresses were women- there hadn’t been any male Sorcerers that she knew of, anyways- who were granted their powers from their predecessor, usually just before aforementioned predecessor passed on.  Sorceresses were unable to exist without a Knight to help her balance the weight of her powers.  A Sorceress without a Knight would eventually go mad- her rational mind consumed by the weight of the power she held within her.  However, a Sorceress was also unable to die peacefully without bequeathing her powers to a new Sorceress- and that little detail was what kept Layla from joinging her beloved Kent in the Great Beyond.

Layla, for all her faults, simply couldn’t bring herself to pass on her burden to some poor, unsuspecting girl- not with the state of the world and how most Sorceresses were currently feared and reviled.

Less than a decade had passed since the end of the Sorceress Adel’s reign of Esthar, and the tyrannical despot had done the average Sorceress no favors in terms of being able to live a relatively unbothered existence.  Layla had done her best to subtly shield young potential Sorceresses from the insane woman, but Layla’s Sorceress powers lay in touching the hearts of people- in helping heal wounds of the soul- and in shielding persons or objects; those abilities not really lending to her being a front-line fighter.  Layla, at her core, was also sort of a pacifist, an eternal peacemaker, and the inner conflict between _want_ and _need_ had lent to her unease at coming out of her mountainous home and fighting as a fully-realized Sorceress for all and sundry.

Kent had understood.  He had always known her better than she knew herself.

Layla absently gathered up the useful parts of the monster she had just defeated, sniffling lightly as the _ache_ that had been present since Kent’s death _shuddered_ and _spread_ even as she smiled bitterly at her own failures.  It was twilight and the snow was gently drifting down, a sure sign that she needed to head back home soon if she didn’t want to get caught up in the upcoming storm.

_I wish I had an heir_.  She thought bitterly as her hands efficiently moved through the practiced motions of stowing and separating _.  I wish Kent and I had been able to have children.  I wish that somehow I could get over myself and just pass on my burden so that I could-_

A sharp _crack_ resounded through the small valley and Layla spun, her hand going towards her spear even as her sharp eyes traced the surroundings.  She was far up in the mountains, the closest village at least twenty miles away, and as she had just taken out two Coackatrice- and they were territorial little beasties- so what had-

There was a muffled sound- something between a gasp and a sob- and Layla rapidly covered the ground towards the sounds of distress.  She might be a peacemaker- a coward- but Layla was a caretaker at heart and there was something so primal and wounded about the noise that she instinctively wanted to help.  It was only a few minutes later that Layla came across a small form, crumpled at the base of a tree and breathing raggedly. 

The blonde woman sheathed her weapon and dropped her satchel near her as she slid to a stop near the small form.  The woman’s blue eyes went gentle at the sight of the small child even as her heartbeat picked up as her mind dutifully catalogued all the injuries present on the small form.

“Well, let’s get you home and cleaned up, sweetheart.”  She murmured as she scooped up the barely-breathing child and her satchel before she took off in a dead sprint for her home.

_Is this your doing, Kent?_   She wondered as she swiftly and nimbly navigated the rugged landscape; her expertly crafted leather boots finding the best footholds automatically even as she tenderly cradled the wounded child to her breast _.  Is this your answer to my tears?_   Layla’s mouth tugged upwards into a sad, mournful smile even as her eyes misted over.  _You always did hate to see me cry, didn’t you, my love?_

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“Moooooom-”  Harry whined dramatically up at the grinning blonde woman above him, his bum going numb from both the cold seeping through his pants and the force by which his rear-end had been unexpectedly introduced to the ground.  “-that _hurt_!”

Layla grinned down at her son, blue eyes shining with mirth as she expertly twirled her spear between dexterous fingers, the blade’s shining edge flashing brightly in the early morning sun, before resting the butt of it against the tightly packed ground.  “Well, son of mine.”  The woman told the whining boy before her in an entirely amused tone of voice.  “Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences before you ate the last bit of chocolate in the house!”

Harry pouted and wobbled to his feet, rubbing his sore backside as he did so.  That tumble had _hurt_.  “I didn’t know it was the last one!”  He told his mother in exasperation, his bright green eyes extra round and doe-like behind his black-rimmed, square glasses as he tried to plead his case to the chocolate-Mom-monster before him.

“That’s no excuse!”  Layla informed her son cheerfully as she smoothly slid into a fighting stance before quickly pouncing on her dark-haired chocolate thief.

“Ooof!”  Harry grunted as the shaft of his mother’s spear made contact with his mid-section despite his dodge.  The dark-haired boy smoothly cartwheeled- though he fumbled the landing- before he reached down and snatched up his practice spear before rushing forward to meet his mother’s attacks head-on.  “This wouldn’t be an issue if you hadn’t left it on the kitchen table!”  He told his mother in between defending against her strikes and trying to find an opening to press his assault.  “What was I supposed to think?”

“That I fully planned on eating it!”  Layla called back as she nimbly used the nearby rocky overhang to her advantage and somersaulted over her boy’s head before aiming a strike at his unprotected back.

“That is _so_ not how chocolate etiquette works!”  Harry shot back with a grin, his eyes bright with the thrill of battle even as he shuffled backwards under the force of his mother’s blows.  He barely got turned around in time to block her!  “If it’s in the common areas, it’s fair game!”

“Nope!”  Layla called back merrily, stepping over Harry’s attempt at swiping her feet out from under her with ridiculous ease.  “That’s not how it works _at all_!”

In the next two seconds Harry was once again disarmed and on the ground while the blade of his mother’s spear tapped him gently on the neck before it was withdrawn.  “Fine!”  He grumbled mostly good-naturedly.  “I surrender.  Happy now?”

Layla grinned brightly, reaching forward to slip her fingers underneath his knit cap and lightly ruffle his dark hair before she turned on her heel and bounced off towards the house.

Harry was amused, despite the bruises that he just knew were forming from his latest bout against his mother.  The dark-haired boy slipped the cover of his gloves over his fingers- his gloves were fingerless, but they had a cover that could be tugged over them if need be- and slowly began ambling his way towards the caves that housed the animals.

Forfeiting meant doing his Mom’s share of the chores after all.

As he stepped inside the animal caves he grinned brightly at the welcoming feel of heat that washed over him.  His Mom’s Sorceress powers and some application of some Earth Runework meant that caves were nice and climate controlled.  “Hey, Betsy.”  He called out to their dairy cow, the animal snuffing happily as Harry laid out her grain before her.  Harry took a few minutes to coo and fuss over the elderly cow before moving on to the next animal.  The chores were all simple enough, so he slipped into his thoughts as his body ran through the familiar motions of caring, cleaning, and gathering.

It had been nearly three years since he had unexpectedly landed on Terra- and hadn’t that been a shock!  He’d woken up inside his Mom’s house- though, she wasn’t Mom at the time- and had nearly had a mental breakdown.  It had taken a lot of work- as the languages of Terra were similar but not the same as the languages of Earth- but his Mom had been patient and kind and steadfast through the learning curves and eventually she’d smoothly transitioned from being ‘Miss Layla’ to ‘Mom’.

A small, fond smile tugged at Harry’s lips as he absently shucked off his coat and hung it by the door before slipping on a work apron.  _My mom is awesome._   He thought as he grabbed the rake and headed for the stalls.  It had been Layla that had helped Harry sort through all the memories and emotional baggage that had been left behind by Lily and Tommy Riddle’s souls.  Harry’s Empathy had helped him suppress the memories and organize them, but it hadn’t really helped him deal with all of it. 

Layla had been his rock throughout the process, centering him and guiding him whenever he became too lost in the other’s memories and nearly lost sight of himself.  There had been one notable occasion where he’d seen his Mum’s- for Lily Potter would always be ‘Mum’; it was part of the reason why Layla was ‘Mom’- death from both sides- hers and Riddles’- and Harry had gotten so violently ill and turned around that he’d nearly killed himself because he had felt responsible for his mother’s death- as it he’d committed the act himself.

Layla had pulled him through that, with her Sorceress powers- barging into his mindscape and forcibly separating the other two personalities from his own, thereby starting the healing process.  When he’d come to, her natural caring nature had soothed him and helped him get through the emotionally draining and mentally taxing sessions that he needed to fully just be ‘Harry’ and not be partially stuck in the past.

That was incident that had marked the turning point in their relationship from being ‘lost boy and weary woman’ to ‘mother and son’.

However, despite all the Hallmark moments between them, Terra was a much different place than Earth.  For starters, there were monsters- beasts of extraordinary abilities that preyed upon humans.  Harry quickly found that Layla wasn’t a pushover, despite her pacifistic tendencies, so she had been training her son in the fine art of monster hunting for a little over two-and-a-half years.  It had been fun, learning how to wield weapons and strip a monster of the valuable parts to sell to the traders that wandered through the villages that Layla travelled to do business with. 

Harry tugged the rake a bit harder and grinned despite the tangy methane smell that permeated the stall, keeping an absent eye on the happily eating animals as he did so.

He _never_ wanted to have to chase Billy-the-goat around _ever again_.

_My natural, internal magic makes me different._   He thought as he dumped the clumps of animal waste and hay in the wheelbarrow.  _Here on Terra only Sorceresses have their own power- well, there are the Blue Witches and their unique abilities, I guess._   Harry shoved the soiled wheelbarrow aside and went to grab the one they used for fresh hay.

_Mom says that we’re going to go to Dollet to try and find me a Guardian Force_.  Harry thought as wheeled the clean wheelbarrow closer and mucked out fresh hay to cover the stall’s floor, moving over to the next once he finished with the first.  _Supposedly it’s what the Gardens use so that their students can use the Draw Points- natural magic reservoirs where you can ‘refill’ your spell log, because you can only mentally carry so many spells at a time, at least that what the traders said- and use magic._

Harry’s countenance darkened, but his body stayed busy.  _There’s talk of them building a Garden here in Trabia, out of the old Centran shelters that they used to evacuate people with after the Lunar Cry.  Mom doesn’t say it, but she’s worried that my natural magic will act up in front of someone else and if we don’t have a GF to explain it away, we could be in big trouble.  Even though Adel’s been gone for the better part of a decade, most people around here still fear Sorceresses- Sorceress Adel was the one who broke apart the Holy Dollet Empire, after all, and the Empire was the last of the great civilizations!_   Harry finished his stall work and began to lead the animals back to their individual pens.

Both Harry and Layla were softies at heart- even though they did butcher animals from time to time to use for food- and they felt that their animals should have room to move about and roam, so the stalls were generously sized.  Kent- Layla’s late husband and Knight- had been a softie, too, so the animals were well and truly spoiled.

Harry made his way to the clean-up shower- the outdoor one- and went through the process of cleaning all the animal gunk off of himself efficiently.  As he stood under the spray- the shower was nice and toasty because his Mom’s Sorceress magic plus Earth’s Rune-based Wards made for some pretty amazing things- he tried to shake his dark mood, not wanting to drag it inside where his Mom would fuss over him about it.

_It’ll be alright._  He told himself as he turned the tap off and stepped outside the shower stall, snagging his folded towel as he did so _.  It has to be_.

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“I didn’t know you were born in Dollet, Mom.”  Harry said to his mother as they wandered through the older, more aristocratic section of the sprawling city.

“Hmm, yes.”  Layla commented distractedly, slipping her arm around her son’s wait almost absently as they meandered closer to her childhood home.  “When I was born the Empire was still going strong, barely two decades later it had crumbled to nearly nothing.  It’s….difficult to speak about.”  Harry moved closer to his Mom and she pressed a gentle kiss to his hair before she turned her gaze back to the street they were walking down. 

What they were seeing and what she remembered overlapped in her mind’s eye and she took a few deep, stuttering breaths before she continued to speak.

“I left Dollet at the age of fifteen, a newly bequeathed Sorceress and scared out of my mind.”  She said at length, pulling to a halt in front of an ornate set of wrought-iron gates that surrounded a rather large estate.  Harry could just make out the grand brick house set behind the property’s many great trees. 

Layla smiled, but there were bitter edges to it that made Harry angry at everything and nothing.  “My parents were traditional Dollets in that they believed that a Sorceress and her Knight were meant to serve as tools of the Empire, to preserve her legacy and fight her enemies.”  Layla noticed the guards further down the row eying them distrustfully- and she had no intention of being discovered or arrested- so she shuffled herself and Harry further on, thankful that it was winter and her scarf hid her face quite well. 

“So they made them fight for the Empire, whether they wanted to or not?”  Harry asked her softly.

“Hmm.  Essentially.”  Layla replied just as softly, her eyes fixed ahead of her seeing the ghosts of her past instead of the walkway.  “Galbadia wasn’t a true threat back then, far too small to come up against the true might of the Empire, but unrest had been brewing since the fall of Centra- they were the peacemakers, you see, the neutral party that mediated most large-scale disputes- but then-“  Layla sighed heavily and leaned a little more of her weight against her son.  “-then Sorceress Adel came with her sweet words and promises of a paradise for the Sorceresses who had been forced to do the bidding of others for so long.  Many believed her and her promises of a better life and abandoned their families and countries to answer her siren’s call.”  Layla’s voice cracked but she pressed forward regardless.  “They didn’t find out her true colors until it was far too late and there was nowhere left for them to return to.”

“That’s…….really sad.”  Harry murmured as they walked the curve of the residential drive, looping around it easily and heading back towards the main street that woul take them back to the Market.  “So, they flocked to Sorceress Adel because she promised them freedom?”

“Essentially.”  Layla replied, her uncertainty fading as they walked further way from her once-home.  “Some were simply power-mongers, of course, but many of the Sorceresses who abandoned their duties truly just wanted a place where they wouldn’t be constantly monitored and expected to be…well, obedient dogs, basically.” 

Layla waved her free hand around in front of her as she gestured to the buildings around them.  Dollet was the type of city that simply screamed lavish and snobbery, despite the cracks and dents from skirmishes that had taken place during the Sorceress War and other conflicts along the same time.  Dollet managed to conceal their imperfections quite well, and was quite the tourist trap.  However, hearing the stories about what used to be from someone who had lived in Dollet during her glory days, it made it easier for Harry to see Dollet for what it truly was- the last standing relic of a once-great civilization.

It was the kind of thing that couldn’t be unseen once the truth shattered the illusion.

“I was already in Trabia by then, of course.”  Layla told him as they seamlessly merged back into the crowds of people.  “But I hated fighting, and my powers weren’t well-suited for combat anyways.”  The blond woman let out a short, bright laugh.  “I found Kent by accident, you know.”

“Really?”  Harry perked up, craning his neck so that he could look at his mom’s face- or what little of it was visible under her scarf, anyways.  Harry loved hearing stories about Kent!  The man had been a cross between his dad- once he’d pulled his head out of his arse- and his Earth Godfather Sirius Black.  Harry was extremely sad that he hadn’t had the opportunity to meet the man who had been his mom’s help-mate for the better part of half a century.

“Oh, yes!”  Layla laughed, tugging her son into a hug for a moment before letting him detach from her a little.  “He was a native Trabian- the mountains and the Shumi’s presence in the far north meant that everything passed the ‘Fields is pretty much neutral territory.  The mountains present too much of a challenge for a full assault- as you know, the dead of winter doesn’t make Trabia a pleasant place to be!  There is also the issue of things not wanting to grow in the soil and whatnot, so most village boys go out into the world to find a wife before they return home to raise a family.  They call it the Journey.”  Layla’s smile turned impossibly tender as she gazed at the cloudy sky.  “Kent always said that I was his greatest find, even though his village rejected his decision to marry me and be my Knight, as they were deeply superstitious and anti-Sorceress.”

“What?”  Harry asked incredulously, once again craning to look up at his mom.

“Oh, yes.”  Layla smiled down at her son, smoothing his flyaway hairs back and gently tracing his cheek.  “Some villages are neutral, and the most progressive village tend to be towards the coast, but most of the staunchly anti-Sorceress villages- including Kent’s- were wiped out during the Sorceress War, mostly by suicidal Knights who had lost their Sorceresses.”

“Wow.”  Harry said dumbly, trying to picture such a thing.  For a world that was so advanced it had AI-controlled technological monstrosities that fought in place of any dozen soldiers, there were some severely backwaters areas.  Then again, radio broadcasts had been down since near the end of the Sorceress war, so television was a guarded commodity despite the messaging centers and whatnot, so he just supposed that was what happened when a place had seen as much war as Terra had in recent years.

“Wow is right.” Layla agreed as she led her son over towards a trader she often did business with.  “Just remember, Harry, people are people wherever you go.”  Layla gifted her son with a sharp look, seemingly willing him to understand the importance of her words before she tugged her scarf away from her face a bit and grinned mischievously at him.  “Now then.”  She chirped brightly.  “I seem to recall someone owing me chocolate.”

Harry groaned dramatically and forked over a few gil coins to his smugly smirking Mom.

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The trip to Dollet had been fun, even though they had been unable to acquire a GF crystal.  Well, there had been a few, but Harry hadn’t been able to get within a fingers-width of them before his Empathy started screaming at him, so they hadn’t gotten one.

Layla had spent the trip playing tour guide and pointing out all the things that had changed since she was a little girl, which meant that Harry ended up learning a lot about recent history as a result.

Educational and fun trips for the win!

It was also a good turn of fortune that had them all the way home before the truly terrible part of winter began, so really everything had gone wonderfully.

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Harry’s spear fell from his blood-slick fingers easily, but the boy didn’t pay it any mind.  “MOM!”  He screamed scrambling over to his Mom’s weakly breathing body and turning her over with shaky hands.  “Mom.”  He whispered again in a choked voice.  “Don’t-“

“Shh, it’s alright…..sweetheart.”  Layla grit out between labored breaths.  She tried to grin at her son, but all she managed was a sickly half-smile.  “We both know…..that I can’t pass on without bequeathing-“  Layla’s body trembled as agony flared through her side, causing her to abruptly stop speaking and attempt to breathe through the pain.

Monster attacks were fairly common around the homestead, but this had been a wave of monsters- including some that normally weren’t found in Trabia- and it had taken both her and Harry by surprise.

_Stupid_.  Layla berated herself as Harry’s tear-stained face swam in and out of focus above her.  _This winter is one of the worst in the last century; of course the monsters were going to go against their normal patterns.  I should have been prepared!_

“Mom?”  Harry’s shaky, small voice broke through Layla’s self-recriminating thoughts easily; her twelve-year-old son’s voice was trembling with uncertainty and she _hated_ it. 

In the three years since their trip to Dollet, her Harry had grown up quite a bit.  His black hair- though his natural red highlights were fairly prominent from all his exposure to the mountain sun- was still as messy and untamable as ever.  His bright green eyes were just as vibrant as always, and his new oval-shaped frames on emphasized the almond shape of his eye socket.  He was quite tanned, as well, and had filled out nicely.

Harry’s splash of freckles across his nose was also one of the most adorable things Layla had ever seen.

_Our son is going to have all the little girls fawning over him, Kent._   She thought achingly fondly as she reached out a shaky hand and gently cupped her son’s tear-stained face.  “Sweet-“

A bright trio of lights cut her off, and Layla could only watch in stunned foreboding as the Sorceress powers she had inherited from her predecessor left her body of their own accord and shot over to her motionless son, hovering over Harry’s abdomen for a brief instant before they sank inside his skin seamlessly.

_No_. Layla thought desperately as darkness began to creep into her vision.  _No_!

“It’s alright, Mom.”  Harry’s voice cut through her panic- her shame, her self-hatred, her failures- effortlessly.  “It’s alright.”  He repeated as he slipped his arms around her and brought her closer to him.  “I love you, you know that?”  He said shakily, his breaths coming out in short gasps as he tried to figure out how to say the thousands of things he felt for this bright, wonderful woman who had taken him in and healed him before she slipped away.  “I love you.”  He said once more, pressing a desperate kiss to her forehead, lingering for an endless heartbeat before he sat back up to look her in the eye.  “I’m proud to carry your legacy.”  He told her in a level voice.  “I’m happy that it’s me and not some random stranger, but most of all-“  Tears tracked down Harry’s face, but the smile he gifted Layla was the brightest, most genuine smile in the entire world.  “Tell my Mum and Da hi for me, ok?  And tell Kent that I can’t wait to meet him, but most of all-“  Harry’s voice cracked as he noticed the light in his Mom’s eyes begin to wane.  “-but most of all, don’t waste time feeling guilty, ok?  It’s alright.  I promise it’s alright.  Just, watch over me, alright?”

Layla smiled up at her boy- the impossibly bright child who had swept into her life with all the force of a typhoon and had made things lively and cheerful in her darkest moments.  “You’re a good boy.”  She murmured as she began to slip off into the comforting embrace of sleep.  “I’m so…proud.”  Layla blinked lazily a few times and tried once more to tell her son how much she loved him.  “Be brave.”  She whispered softly, the words barely a whisper on the winds, but Harry heard them all the same.  “-ove…you…”

Harry held in his sobs for nearly two minutes, not wanting to miss a miracle or any other whispered words his Mom might manage to gasp out, but eventually the knowledge that _his Mom was gone crashed_ down onto him and all he could do was clutch her body to him and weep.

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Harry watched his Mom’s body burn through tear-abused eyes, his pack of belongings at his feet.  A Shumi that they regularly did business with- they simply called him Mr. Bob because the other never gave them an actual name to call him- had shown up not five hours after his Mom’s final moments.  Mr. Bob had been on his way towards the Shumi Village in the far north and had come across the signs of a large number of monsters, which had eventualy led him to the homestead.

“You promise you’ll take care of the snimals, right?”  Harry asked Mr. Bob, the silent Shumi a comforting, solid presence at his right.

Mr. Bob nodded solemly.

“Alright then.”  Harry said softly, his gaze tracking back towards the still blazing pyre.  “I think I’ll go try to join the Trabia Garden.”  Harry said after a long silence.  “I-I can’t-“  Harry ducked his head ad clenched his fists at his sides.  The almost-teen swallowed rapidly a few times before he managed to continue.  “I just-I can’t stay here right now.” 

Mr. Bob’s hand coming down onto Harry’s shoulder was unexpected enough that the boy startled a little, but he raise his head to give the Shumi male a wan smile.  “I’ll come back someday.”  He promised the other.  “Mom loved this place, after all.”  Harry treated Mr. Bob to a crooked grin.  “Hey, maybe by the time I come back you’ll have gone through your change and will be a Moomba!”

Mr. Bob said nothing, but his whole being seemed to brighten at that.

“Well, I had better get going if I want to make it to Brin before dark, otherwise I’ll be stuck here until the next set of storms pass through.”  Harry gave the Shumi male beside him a gentle smile.  “Be careful, alright?”

Mr. Bob nodded solemnly.

“There’s plenty of preserves in the cellar.”  Harry babbled in agitation, torn between leaving and staying.  “We had gone out to hunt and were caught unprepared to face such a large amount of monsters.  We’d almost made it back to the safety of the homestead before Mom took the hit that-“  Harry’s breath caught painfully in his chest, but he gritted his teeth and pressed forward.  “-killed her.”  Harry gave the solemn Shumi one last quicksilver smile before he forced his feet to carry him away from the only home he had ever truly known.

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Harry stood on the deck of the ship that would take him to Balamb Garden.  Balamb Garden was situated on the Island of Balamb, near the base of the Gulag Mountains, so at least he’d have mountains to look at to remind him of home.  The easy access to the ocean was a somewhat new and exciting idea, but Harry could already tell that Balamb’s idea of ‘mild weather’ and Harry’s idea of ‘mild weather’ were likely entirely different.

Trabia Garden’s Intake Officer- once Harry had made it to the Garden, it had taken him nearly a month!- had suggested that Harry go straight to Balamb Garden- the only Garden that actually administered the SeeD Exam- as his education was pretty far ahead of most of his age-mates at Trabia.

_“It’s not that I don’t think that you’d be an asset to Trabia, Harry.”  Officer Kane had told him, the man’s tranquil dark eyes earnest and sincere.  “I just think that since Trabia is so small, you’ll have social issues due to your educational advantage.  At a bigger Garden such as Balamb- because you mentioned wanting to explore junctioning with a Guardian Force, and Galbadia doesn’t use GF’s- there should be enough other students to keep you from being a social pariah.”_

Harry had appreciated the man’s thoughtfulness- as his Primary School experiences were pretty much ancient history and it had been just him and his Mom for _ages_ \- and so he had accepted the advice to transfer to Balamb.  He appreciated Trabia’s willingness to help, as well as the Officer’s honesty and candidness, so there would always be a special spot in his heart for the small Garden.

The ship slid to a stop and the crew began to tie her down.

_Well_.  Harry thought in trepidation as the docking ramp went down.  _This is it_.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:  
> InsaneScriptist, (also known as Izzy, the Great and Terrible and Flawless), looked this over for me. All mistakes are my own, but she did help me through a couple tetchy points.
> 
> There is a character near the end that might seem rather dramatic and a bit annoying- as Izzy pointed out- but I assure you there is a reason for that and it will be a while before they go all melancholic again. Just thought I’d warn you. 
> 
> (Also, it’s not Rinoa. Stop panicking! Sheesh!)
> 
> Also, a few people asked why Harry would join Garden and since I couldn’t work the answer into the chapter so I’ll answer it here:  
> Garden is not only a top-notch mercenary-to-be school it doubles as a safe haven for orphans. Harry can’t stand to be around the homestead right now and he wants to finish his education while also learning to fight better. Garden is about his only option without having to sign away his soul. In my headcannon even those who don’t necessarily make SeeD choose to give back to Garden later on in their lives- kind of like an alumni association. That’s why Garden’s startup costs were so high- as they weren’t getting a full return from their investment right away. To me giving back to Garden for being not only a place of education and combat training but a home is part of what helps Garden last so long into the future.
> 
> Also, SeeDs are just known as a mercenary force by most. The average joe has no idea that SeeDs are trained to be able to take down out-of-control Sorceresses.  
> Does that make sense?
> 
> Please enjoy! I’ll have another short note at the bottom, but I don’t want to spoil any surprises!  
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Something about the Balamb Headmaster- Headmaster Cid Kramer- made Harry’s instincts itch.  A strange sounding statement to complement the strange feelings the man invoked.

“So, you see Cadet Westron.”  Headmaster Cid explained kindly, his round glasses slipping down his nose and his grey-hued brown hair reflecting the early afternoon light haphazardly.  “You obviously make the grade as a SeeD Cadet- Garden does pre-Cadet education as well, you see- which puts you in the ZESTY Program.”  Cid paused and Harry took the chance to grin at the excitable man as best he could.

Headmaster Cid apparently approved of the effort because he beamed at Harry and continued to explain, his hands gesticulating wildly as he continued.  “We wanted to make a program that moved away from the traditional age-level designations, because our prospective SeeDs come from many different walks of life and we here at Garden want to create a positive learning environment so they can thrive.  The Cadet Classes are mixed in the classroom occasionally to accommodate gaps in education, and the only time the designations would matter overmuch is in a state of emergency.  They are mostly for us to be able to keep track of how close a Cadet it to taking the SeeD Exam.”

“Sounds reasonable.”  Harry murmured as he leaned forward in the visitor’s chair and took the proffered booklet from the Headmaster.

“I’m glad you think so!”  Cid replied warmly.  “Now, you’ll notice that Cadets are assigned to a Cadet Class- Zulu, Echo, Sierra, Tango or Yuna- based on their skills and level of education.  Tango is actually the class you need to graduate from to be eligible to partake in the SeeD Exam, Cadet Class Yuna is mostly for revision- as few of our students pass the SeeD Exam on their first try- and those who are unsure if they wish to become full SeeDs.”  Cid paused, causing Harry to look up from his booklet. 

“Makes sense to me, sir.”

“I would like to congratulate you on you making Cadet Class Sierra, but there are a few classes you’ll have to take with the Echo Cadets, as your scores were good, but show room for improvement.”  Cid smiled kindly at the teen before pressing a button on his desk.  “Now, Sierra Cadets are allowed to move from the Barracks to the Cadet Dorms- so you get to skip that experience entirely!  The Cadet Dorms have two bedrooms, a communal room, a small kitchenette, and a bathroom.  The laundry areas are shared between two dorms, but they are accessed via the dorm rooms themselves, so it isn’t as if it is a public space.  Sierra Cadets are responsible for doing their own laundry, though the supplies can be requisitioned from the Quartermaster.”

Just as Cid finished speaking the automated door slid open and an older girl with dark hair and dark eyes walked inside.  “Ready, Headmaster?”

“Ah, Cadet Xu, thank you for coming so promptly!”  Headmaster Cid greeted the newcomer warmly before turning back to Harry.  “Cadet Westron, Cadet Xu is one of your fellow Sierra Cadets, and she will show you to your assigned room.”  Cid stood and reached over to shake Harry’s hand.  “Welcome to Balamb Garden, Cadet Westron.”

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“Well, this is you.”  Xu informed Harry briskly.  “Once you get inside you can use your ID Card to change the code for the door- you’ll want to do that first, because the Headmaster’s Override will only work once, and if you forget to choose a code and then you step out….”  Xu let her sentence trail off.

“Then I’m screwed until my mysterious roommate comes along and I hope that he’ll believe my paperwork and let me in?”  Harry supplied with a wry grin.

“Pretty much.”  Xu chirped cheerfully, grasping his shoulder briefly in a friendly gesture before moving on. “See you in class, Westron.  Though you’ve already taken the Advancement Exams, so you’ll just be note taking until the Winter Break.”  Xu’s voice became swallowed up by the hallways the further she walked away.

“Yeah.  Thanks Cadet Xu!”  Harry called just before she rounded a corner and passed out of sight.  The dark-haired almost teen shook his head and swiped his card through the reader, being extra careful to open the door and prop his foot inside before he picked up his bags and shuffled forward.

Once inside- after calling out a greeting and garnering no response- Harry quickly moved his bag out of the doorway and set about setting up his Personal Identification Code so he wouldn’t get locked out of his own dorm room!  Once that was settled Harry turned around and surveyed his new home.

Keeping true to what he’d seen thus far in regards to Balamb decorating, the common room and kitchenette were done in tasteful varying hues of blue.  The door to the bathroom was open, so Harry could see the crème-and-blue theme it sported.  Harry uncovered his room on the first try- the PIN numbers worked for the bedroom doors as well as the front door- and Harry was delighted to note that not did his room have a window- it also faced the mountains!  Granted, there was a fair bit of distance between Garden and the base of the mountains, but Harry could still see them rising in the background, and they helped him feel just a little less homesick.

The next few hours were squirreled away by Harry unpacking, he had managed to make a sort-of Expansion Charm-thing so he could carry much more than it looked like he was carrying.  It was nowhere near the Expansion Charms from Tom Riddle or Lily Potter’s memories, but it was still pretty impressive to him.

He had just finished reverently placing the final picture he had taken with his Mom on top of his dresser when he heard the front door open.  Harry quickly dusted off his hands and poked his messy head outside his bedroom door, his old social anxiety rearing its head and keeping him from leaving the safety the door provided him just yet.  “H-hello?”  He called out hesitantly.

The first thing Harry noticed about his roommate was that he was huge.  Not in a Dudley-way, but in that hulking, muscley sort of way that usually involved bench-pressing scrawny little twigs like Harry without breaking a sweat.  The Sorceress power he’d inherited from his Mom flared briefly, effectively ‘tasting’ the air around the other teen, the information filtering through his mind nearly instantaneously.

Harry was so surprised by the abrupt re-emergence of the powers he had grown somewhat accustomed to that he nearly yelped in surprise.  The power usually sat just under the surface of his skin, calm- like Mom had been- and waiting patiently for him to call on it.  It had wrestled with him for control the first few days, but between his own willpower and his Earth magic- which had snapped back inside the seal that held it once he’d arrived on Terra and had only recently began to try to tear the barrier away completely- he’d managed to wrestle his newly-acquired Sorceress powers under his control.  Once it had stopped fighting him for control he had been able to notice and appreciate just how much _pressure_ his mind was under, and he had developed a sudden, deep sympathy for Sorceresses whose minds buckled under the weight of their powers before they could even begin to look for a Knight.

In the time between his greeting and the information his powers dumped on his poor mind, the beefy teen had jumped a little and whirled around to face him.  “Give me a heart attack, ya know!”  The burly, dark-skinned teen complained half-heartedly before a wide, friendly grin overtook his features.  “I’m Raijin- you can call me Rai, ya know- it’s nice to meetcha!  My old roommate got hurt and went home, I didn’t know they’d already assigned me someone new, ya know!”

Even without what his Empathy was telling him- he just lumped all of his Empathetic gifts together- Harry relaxed at the friendly demeanor and calm of the other teen.  Stepping out from behind his bedroom door Harry padded over and stuck his hand out towards Raijin.  “I’m Harry Westron.”  He informed the other with a bright smile.  “But you can just call me Harry!  It’s nice to meet you, Rai!  Also, I just got here today.  I transferred from Trabia Garden.”

Raijin grinned broadly and shook Harry’s hand so enthusiastically it nearly hurt.  “Welcome to B-Garden, then, Harry!”

A strange set of tones filtered through the room and Harry cast a quizzical look at Raijin.  “Chow time, ya know!”  The other Cadet informed him gleefully.  “Put some shoes on and I’ll show you to the Mess.  I’ll introduce you to my posse, ya know!”

“Your posse?”  Harry muttered bemusedly as he let himself get swept away by Raijin’s honest enthusiasm. 

As they made their way out the door and down the crowded hallways, Harry focused intently on Raijin and his excitable explanations.  There was something soothing about the other that allowed Harry to not become overwhelmed by the passive Empathy readings he was gathering from his fellow students.  He’d forgotten how _stifling_ it felt to be around so many people at once- but Raijin’s steady presence was nothing less than a blessing, and Harry resolved then and there to be a good friend to the other boy despite his rather simplistic nature.

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“Fujin!  Seifer!  This is Harry, ya know!”  Raijin all but bellowed to the silver-haired girl and the blonde that were loitering around the entrance to the Mess, seemingly waiting for Raijin.

The blonde smirked cockily, but there was a calculating look in his eyes that didn’t bode well for Harry if he somehow turned out to be a jerk.  The silver-haired girl’s only visible red eye- her left was covered by an eye patch- was no less unnerving and Harry felt humbled at the amount of devotion Raijin elicited from his friends.

_I’d like to have friends like that._   Harry thought wistfully as he put his most earnest smile on his face and greeted the two.  “Hiya!  You must be Fujin-“  He nodded towards the silver-haired girl.  “-and Seifer-“  He nodded briefly at the calculating blonde.  “I’m Harry Westron, I just transferred in from Trabia today.  Please take care of me.”

The silver-haired Fujin gave him another long, piercing stare before she turned back towards Raijin.  “TONIGHT ONLY.”  Fujin informed Rai firmly, her words strangely enunciated and sharp.

Raijin turned to Harry.  “Sorry, man, Fuu says just for tonight until you can prove you’re not a, ah-“

“-a jackass.”  Seifer slipped in fluidly, detaching from the wall and giving Harry a sharp smile.  “We’re a posse, see, and we don’t take just anybody.  You gotta earn your way in, got it?”

Something intense and unpleasant erupted in Harry’s belly- something between rejection, hurt, anger, and fury- but he quickly smothered the response and forcefully pulled his magic back under control.  The _very last_ thing he needed was to cause a magical disturbance before he’d gotten his hands on a GF.  Besides, it wasn’t an entirely unreasonable demand.  “Sure, sure.”  He said out loud, gesturing towards the rapidly-filling Mess with his free hand.  “Lead the way.”

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Garden wasn’t too bad, Harry supposed as he sat in one of the small nooks in the outdoor training area.  He had his Mom’s- well, his now- spear with him just in case he ran into any monsters.  Harry smiled sadly as he ran his fingers over Kenna’s intricately carved middle.  Kent had forged the weapon himself- he had been a Blacksmith, a fairly accomplished one, actually- for his Mom’s twenty-seventh birthday.  The weapon was named in honor of the little sister that Kent had left behind when he’d turned his back on his village to be with Layla.

Tears dripped down onto the weapon and Harry swiped at his face in irritation.  He _hated_ crying like a baby every time he thought about his Mom!  Almost all of his good memories came from his time with his Mom and he didn’t want to forget all the laughter they shared just because the fact that she was gone _hurt_.  Harry tipped his head back and went through his breathing exercises. 

When he finally felt calm again he looked back down at the weapon.  The shaft was made of pure adamantium- an extremely rare, extremely hard to work with metal- while the battle-end of the spear fanned out.  The middle blade was a straight, twelve-inch piece of shining steel, while the two complimentary wicked-looking side blades looked much like wings.  There was a small flared section just below the top- where it connected to the shaft- and the bottom of the spear flared out slightly just before the spiked end.

All-in-all Kenna was a work of art, especially with the detailing of wings along her shaft.

Harry smiled slightly as he remembered all the nights he and his Mom had cuddled under the blankets while she had whispered stories about Sorceresses and how some of the most powerful ones could manifest wings.  It was from that wives tale that Kent had taken inspiration for Kenna’s design.  Layla had never manifested wings, but she had told Harry that Adel had manifested bone-like protrusions that served as wings.

_“Terrible things happen to Sorceresses who choose to let their power control them, sweetheart.”  Layla had told the wide-eyed Harry gently.  “It’s why it’s important for me to remember that it is my power, not a power that controls me.”_

Harry’s head snapped up at the sound of someone- or something- walking across the crunchy leaves.  Balamb boasted a tropical ort of climate, but it was winter which meant dry, cold- for Balamb- weather.  Well, winter was nearly over as it was February now.  However, due to this, some of the more finicky trees had shed their leaves, leaving many crunchy spots for monsters and people alike to tromp across.  The almost-teen silently rose from his position, tossing his satchel’s strap over his head as he inched his way out of his hiding spot.  The movement stopped just short of him and Harry whirled around the corner with Kanna at the ready.

Only to stop short at the person standing there.  “Leonhart?”  Harry asked uncertainly.

Squall Leonhart- Garden’s resident loner and gunblade enthusiast- looked just as surprised to see Harry as Harry was to see him.  “Whatever.”  Slipped out from the brunet’s mouth nearly reflexively and Harry didn’t really need his Empathy to see the slight cringe the brunet made when he realized what he’d said.

Harry just grinned good-naturedly and quietly held his magic back from trying to reach out and _fix_ the yawning wound in Leonhart’s soul.  While Harry was fairly certain that he had absorbed the slivers of Tom Riddle and Lily Potter’s soul purely out of happenstance, part of Layla Sorceress magic was the ability to heal wounds of a spiritual nature.  The deep, infected wound in Leonhart’s soul- or heart or mind- nearly drove Harry to distraction.  Sure there were lots of wounds that he noticed and itched to fix, but Leonhart’s wounds called to him nearly as loudly as Seifer Almasy’s did. 

“It’s alright, I was just headed back inside.  There’s nothing to fight this way, though- if that’s what you’re looking for!”  Harry informed Leonhart cheerfully before he sheathed his spear and ambled back towards Garden.

Once he was far enough away, Harry let out a quiet, heartfelt sigh.  _I really need to get a GF before I majorly screw something up_.  He thought sourly.

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Seifer’s green eyes absently tracked Raijin’s roommate as the smaller teen went through the Mess line and scurried off to eat by himself at one of the outer tables.  It had been nearly six months since Harry Westron came to Garden and Seifer just wished he could _make up his damn mind about the other boy._

The first night they’d met, Seifer had been wary.  People tended to try to take advantage of Rai’s easygoing nature and while Westron hadn’t looked like the type, Rai was one of Seifer’s posse and that meant Seifer was not going to take any chances where Rai was concerned.  However, Westron was nothing but kind to Rai- he was even pleasant to Fuu during her initial ‘I’m-testing-you’ phase that had included a measure of physical violence.  Westron had just laughed it off and mumbled something about his Mom.

Fuu’s elbow impacting his ribs none-too-gently jolted Seifer out of his daydreaming.

“OBSESSED.”  Fujin pronounced with a wicked grin curling at her lips.

Seifer scowled.  “I am _not_ obsessed.”  He whined- _protested_.  Seeing Fuu’s skeptical expression made him falter a bit, and when even Raijin quirked an eyebrow at him Seifer threw his hands up in exasperation.  “I’m not.”

His friend’s expressions remained unchanged.  Seifer pouted- _frowned severely_ at them.

“That’s it!”  Seifer growled after a long stare-down- which he totally won.  “Both of you are on Hall Duty with the _babies_.”

Their sour expressions made Seifer want to preen.

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Harry leaned his forehead against his bedroom door for a long moment before he flipped around and pressed his back to it, sliding down to sit on the floor shortly thereafter.  He had been at Balamb for two terms now and it was the beginning of summer break.  The problem was, Harry had no idea what he was going to do for the next four weeks without classes and homework to occupy his time.

Harry was already on track to take his SeeD Exam the year after next- his academics were stellar, but he could only master so many weapons at a time.  SeeDs were expected to be able to pick up just about any weapon and use it somewhat proficiently, not to mention a person’s chosen weapon.  Unfortunately, despite all of his attempts at being friendly, he was rather friendless.  Not entirely, but he really didn’t have any friends who rose above the level of ‘close acquaintance’.  Harry sighed and leaned his head back against his bedroom door, his eyes fixed on some vague point outside his window as he fell into his thoughts.

He needed to find his Knight, Harry knew, and he needed to find them fairly quickly.  He was already getting frequent headaches, and for as kind as Doc Kadowaki was, Harry did not want to give her any reasons to look any closer at him than strictly necessary.  He didn’t have a GF yet, either, as the crystals that the GFs were stored inside fairly made his Empathy _screech_.  Harry wasn’t sure why- as he couldn’t really discern anything from the cacophony of feedback he was always inundated with- but he had to have a GF to be able to use magic.

Harry listened through the door as Raijin entered their dorm, followed closely by Seifer and Fujin.  Listening to the three friend’s playful banter only made Harry’s mood plummet even further.  Recognizing the symptoms of a ‘depressive episode’ Harry tried to pull out his cheeriest thoughts to the fore of his mind to try to combat the dark cloud that was trying to settle over his mind.  Just as he’d get himself immersed in a good memory- usually ones featuring his Mom- Fujin’s strange way of speaking would cut through his thoughtful musings and he’d be right back where he started.

The almost-teen sat with his back against the door long enough for the sun to change positions and subsequently attempt to blind him.  Harry huffed lightly and shuffled over towards his bed, flopping down across it face first- after removing his glasses- and wanting nothing more than to fall asleep and either wake up with his Mom or at the start of the fall term.

_I really need to find my Knight or my mentality is going to continue to deteriorate._   He thought fuzzily as he hovered on the precipice of sleep _.  Not that anyone would want to be my Knight._ He thought mopily as he inched closer to oblivion and further from conscious thought _.  I don’t even have any friends!  And whoever heard of a male Sorcerer, anyways?_

Harry’s last thought before he slipped into the sweet escape of sleep was- _I’m going to end up alone, aren’t I?_  

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Deep beneath the man-made research center that had disrupted her resting place, Eden roused from her long slumber.  The feathery, angel-like GF morphed and changed until she stood in her original form.

Eden’s green-painted lips curved into a sad smile as she cast her ethereal gaze around the abandoned research station.  The wings protruding from her back shivering slightly as she moved and the bright lines on her face doing little to hide her grief as she moved through the remnants of the station.

_Still so foolish._   She thought sadly as she walked as far away from her crystal as she could in each direction, curiously peering at the primitive technology that the researchers had left behind.  Eventually Eden settled down in a chair not far from her crystal and gazed sightlessly out of the glass window that sheltered her from the sea’s churning rage.

Eden sighed as she ran her fingers along the white feathers of her left wing, having curled it around herself in an attempt to bring comfort to herself as she thought back over her history. 

She was the first Guardian Force.  The original.

Eden was not the name she had had when she had lived, but it suited her well-enough now.

When she had walked Terra as a living bring human the Centra had still been a rising power, battling with the primitive Xenocans and the slightly more advanced Medterrans as they tried to carve out a place for their people.  Back then the number of Sorceresses had been smaller than the amount she could feel roamed now, but even then the knowledge that a Sorceress must pass on her powers had been a law.

Eden had been brilliant and powerful and proud when she had waded into battle, her blessed Knights faithfully beside her as she brought low all who sought to harm her people.  She grew arrogant and proud- though she was always kind, always the first to offer aid to those in need- however, her pride came at a terrible cost.

Her First Knight fell and Eden had _raged_.

She had raged and sobbed and wailed, but nothing brought back her precious Knight.  In the end her decent into almost-madness had cost her second Knight his life as well, as he sacrificed himself to bring Eden back from the brink of self-destruction.

By that time the Centra had established themselves quite firmly.  Eden’s tantrums having been aimed at the encroaching outsiders- because even at her most insane she would have _never_ brought harm to her people- and Eden herself had just wanted to _sleep_.  However, after everything, Eden hadn’t felt as if she had deserved to rest- not when she’d _failed_ and _caused their deaths_ and-

Eden had asked her people to find a way for her to live on as a Protector- _a Guardian_ \- but to only be called upon whenever she was needed.

Shortly thereafter she had allowed herself to be sealed away.

Eden still wasn’t sure how she had gone from the cryogenic chambers of Polar Centra to the crystal that now housed her consciousness.  But somewhere between her being introduced into her cryogenic sleep and her establishment as a Guardian Force, Eden _changed_.  Not quite as much as some of the later GFs, but she ceased to be who she was when she went to sleep and became something different.  There was something far more primal to Eden now, far more _dangerous_.  Her powers had passed to another at some point in the shuffle and in their place was something far more treacherous than the magic she had once wielded so viciously.

Honestly she had been happy when the disaster had struck and the lab with her crystal had sunk into the depths of the sea.

For an age she had slept, blissfully disconnected from the world and its petty troubles.  Her thoughts had flowed around the other GFs sometimes- and she had felt so guilty for being the first- but mostly she simply slumbered.

Then the man-made island had come and they had disturbed her rest with devices and experiments.  Greedy scavengers attempting to pick the bones of the dead.  Bahamut had eventually had enough and destroyed a great deal of the vermin after they had cut themselves off from the world and attempted to find out how the original Centran- for those later ones were pretenders, more alike the savage Xenocans than the people she had fought for, that her Knights had _died_ for- had made the Guardian forces.  Bahamut had eventually been overpowered and sealed into their experimental blue crystal, but Eden had been fiercely proud of her fellow GF that day.  She’d also been viciously satisfied that Bahamut had done enough damage that the scavengers were unable to escape, wasting away until none of them remained.

Eden had slipped back off into slumber.

Now, however, now there was a child that called to her.  One whose soul sang of hope and companionship and forgiveness.  Eden took a deep breath and attempted to calm herself.

_Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl._   She told herself firmly, her thoughts spinning and twisting even as her traitorous heart cried out for the healing the child offered her so freely.

_Don’t cry!_   Eden told herself harshly, but the tears were already streaming down her face as her heart reached for the light.

_Always so intuitive, Eden._   Bahamut’s deep, gravelly voice danced through her head soothingly and Eden gave up any pretense of control as she laid her head down against her folded arms and wept.  Her white wings came around her instinctively, shielding her from the outside, but Eden’s heart-cry only grew louder, more insistent despite their feathery efforts to shield her.

The Dragon King’s voice was silent for a long moment as Eden wept and her heart-cry only grew in strength and fervor.  _It’s not your fault.  None of it_.  Bahamut told her gently, his deep voice brooking no argument.  _We all had our reasons- even if the younger ones and my other selves cannot remember our Origins- but we chose this, Eden.  Do not patronize us._

Eden sniffled miserably and coughed weakly.  _But, if I hadn’t-_

_I thought I told you not to patronize us._   Bahamut roared furiously, cutting Eden off and slicing through her self-recriminations with ease.  _We each made our own choices, picked our own path.  The blame for what we became does not solely fall to you!_

Eden chuckled wetly and raised herself up a little.  _What am I to do then, Dragon King?  How am I to find my way to my Light?_

Bahamut’s answering chuckle was anything but reassuring.

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Harry was fairly certain that he was losing his mind.  Actually, with what he was that was a distinct, uncomfortably plausible possibility.

His dreams had been inundated with a pretty woman with angel wings and colored markings on her face for about a week now and he just wanted to be able to sleep without feeling like he was just out of range to hear whatever she was yelling.  He was back in Trabia- having decided that staying at Balamb with his thoughts already bordering depressive was not something he should do- and he had spent a few nights at the homestead.  However, the grief was still too fresh- too raw- for him to stay much longer, so after making sure that Mr. Bob had everything well in hand, Harry had set out across the mountains on foot.

He hadn’t forgotten about the small army of monsters that had upturned his life less than a year ago, however, so he was extra vigilant and took the time to see what sort of things he could get his magic to do.  After a few days Harry found that pushing his Empathetic senses out into his surroundings actually helped- well, ‘cleanse’ them.  Something about the raw, untouched natural energies of the wilds soothed his frazzled senses and helped pull him back from the brink of a mental collapse.  His mind calmed and his emotions settled and by the time he reached the oceanside he was fairly content.

Or he would have been if that stupid dream would just _quit it_ already.

Harry knew he wasn’t very far from the nearest small port town- Dane, if he remembered correctly, but it might be Trabia East, the town that was oh-so-creatively named after the shipping company- so he picked up the pace a bit and jogged towards his destination at a steady clip.

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Harry laid down to sleep that night at the Inn in Dane- he had been right!  Mom would be so proud!- and easily slipped off to sleep.  This night, instead of pushing at the angel woman and trying to get her to go away he cautiously walked nearer to her and asked her _what the hell_ her problem was.

Well, sort of.

“Hello?”  Harry greeted warily, keeping the woman and her expression in her crosshairs as he sent out his Empathetic senses to check her over.

“Hello, My Light.”  She greeted warmly, slowly raising an ivory-pale arm and pooling magic into her palm.  “Are you always this cautious?”  She asked after a heartbeat of silence, her tone torn somewhere between amusement and exasperation.

“Well.”  Harry mumbled after three attempts at reading her ‘aura’ fed him gibberish results.  “I’m not sure what kind of Sorceress powers are out there and I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

The angel-woman seemed to brighten and warm under those words- much to Harry’s consternation- and she chose her next words carefully.  “I merely wish to tell you a story.”  She told him in a calming tone of voice, her multi-hued eyes gentle as they watched the boy before her.  “And if you don’t want to associate with me afterwards, then I shall not bother you again.”

Harry nodded guardedly and sank down to sit cross-legged on the ‘floor’.  “Alright.”  He replied carefully, keeping his senses open and his eyes trained on the woman before him.

The angel-woman nodded regally and sank down to her knees gracefully.  “Very well, then.  Allow me to tell you the story of the first Guardian Force and how she came to be…..

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“- and so Eden was never cloned, not like Bahamut or Shiva or Tonberry and her crystal has resided in the deep since time immemorial.”  The angel-woman finished calmly.  “Or at least, she has until now.”

Harry’s caution had receded, leaving his not-safe-to-remain-unsupervised sense curiosity and the insistent desire to _heal_ in its wake.  “You’re Eden.”  He whispered quietly into the expectant air between them.

The woman smiled sadly.  “I am.”  She whispered softly, her eyes turning to the floor and a hand coming up to play absently with the feathers of her left wing.

“But you think I can help you?  That I might be able to heal you?”  Harry persisted gently.

Eden tipped her head back and laughed, the sound rushing through the blank space affectionately and filling it with an undeniable sense of vitality and life.  “You are a treasure, My Light.”  Eden laughed as she smoothly rose to her feet and cautiously made her way over towards Harry.

Harry was still wary, still cautious- but her words and actions rang true and there was that part of him that had always wanted to _help_.  To _heal_ and _mend_ and _make new_ and so even though it was a bit mad and _more than a little_ stupid-

“What do I need to do?”  Harry asked solemnly, wondering at the melancholic smile that tugged at Eden’s lips and trying to figure out just why that smile reminded him- rather painfully- of Mom.

“Wake up.”  Eden told him softly, her fingers ghosting over the contours of his face almost reverently.  “You just need to wake up and accept my crystal and I swear that I will do my utmost to protect you, child.”

Harry reached up and caught her slender hand in his own and smiled at her- warm and bright and effusive.  “And I swear that I’ll do my utmost to heal you, so that you can be _free_.”

Eden’s stunned, touched expression was the last thing Harry saw before he was jolted back into consciousness.

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When Harry awoke it was nearly mid-morning and as he went to sit up he nearly dislodged the shimmering, glowing green GF crystal that had been sitting on his chest.  Harry reached out to hold it- his fingers running across the strangely warm frost-patterns in something akin to wonderment- before he received the distinct impression of being _amused_ and _impatient_ from the crystal.

“Pushy much?”  Harry huffed in amusement as he tugged off his left glove and watched curiously as the crystal sank into his flesh slowly before disappearing entirely.  A few rather disorienting moments later he could feel Eden’s warm laugh ring through his mind and he just knew it was going to be a beautiful day.

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By the time Harry made it back to Balamb Garden he had become somewhat accustomed to hearing Eden’s running commentary inside his head.  It had been an enlightening learning experience for the both of them- and it had taken Harry nearly two days after Eden had found out that she could peek at the world through Harry’s eyes if she tried, before he got the hang of not answering his GF out loud- but they were settling in quite neatly.

Eden’s warm breath could help settle Harry’s magic- both of them, his Earth magic was inching closer to total freedom every day- and Harry’s Empathetic nature seemed to already be helping Eden heal.  Or at least pull the edges of her wounds together in preparation for healing.

Things weren’t perfect and there was still _a lot_ left for them to learn- as Harry was _most certainly not_ looking for anyone to replace his Mom- but they were good for each other. 

Only time would reveal if that would remain to be true, however.

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

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> A/N #2:
> 
> So, I think Sorceress wings are cannon, but it might just be that I grafted them solidly into my headcannon after reading Batsutousai’s Silver Wings. I’m pretty sure I have enough cannon-foundation to use them without needing permission- as Adel and Ultimecia both had them, I’m pretty sure- but I wanted to make sure I gave proper credit where it was due.
> 
> Also, my being sucked into FFVIII fandom is totally the fault of Shivani, Batsutousai, and emcey squared. They all have awesome FFVIII stories.
> 
> Oh! And if you like Pokemon at all, InsaneScriptist has a new KHR/Pokemon cross that is going to be totally epic. I can’t wait to see what she does with it!  
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	3. Chapter 3

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Harry finished his cool-down circuit gratefully before he all but threw himself on the packed dirt of the training area.

“Ow.”  He muttered tiredly, shifting his head to the side just enough that he could breathe freely, ignoring Eden’s playfully murmured comments about _drama queen teenagers_ and Quezacotl’s cheerful chirps as he did so.  “Shut it.”  He slurred out before his brain decided to helpfully remind him that speaking out loud where anyone could walk in on him was a bad idea.  _I’m exhausted._   He mentally growled at his amused spiritual companions.  _So shut it._

It had been about roughly a month since the start of the fall term for Balamb and Harry had been training nonstop. 

Shortly after arriving- a day or so before term had actually started- Harry had managed to actually junction with one of the Garden’s supplied GFs.  Since Harry had passed his exams and progressed to Cadet Class Tango he was not only _allowed_ but also _highly recommended_ to requisition a GF if he hadn’t already found one.  Tango was a two-year program due to the sheer volume of weapons, transports, and classwork that needed to be mastered or covered.  The Cadets also had a series of mock missions they needed to clear as well as a few other odds-and-end pre-requisites that were required before they were allowed to take the SeeD Exam itself. 

Eden had gently encouraged Harry- despite his protests and history of repeated failed attempts- to try and junction with a garden GF.  Eden’s logic that they wouldn’t have to hide Harry’s ability to do magic or try to dodge the inevitable questions about what GF he was junctioned with and how he managed to find it if he had a Garden GF eventually won out and with Eden’s help Harry had been able to overcome his Empathy’s knee-jerk reaction of chaotic feedback and successfully junction.

Harry had also learned that arguing with Eden was akin to arguing with his Mom- which was to say that he was destined to lose, even if he managed to gain a concession or two.

Quezacotl was a chirpy little GF.  He was various shades of green and seemed to be a cross between a dragon and a bird.  Truthfully Quez’s avian similarity sort of reminded Harry of the Phoenix he had seen in his Mum and Tom Riddle’s memories- the one that was partnered with that Professor, as the Phoenix had been in the room a lot with Tom during his Hogwarts school years.  At any rate, Quez was an effervescent little guy who specialized in lightning/wind attacks and had an uncanny ability to make little cards.   Harry didn’t really understand the Triple Triad card game- or the rules- but he knew that he could use the ability to turn damaged enemies into cards and then sell them for gil- as the card game was rather popular- so it was still a nifty little ability.  Quez couldn’t actually speak to Harry, but was able to communicate with Eden, who could then play translator.  Quez was pretty good at getting his point across though, so she had to translate less and less nowadays.

Quez reminded Harry of stories his Mom had told him about Moomba- who couldn’t speak to humans except for a word or two but could communicate fluidly to other animals and sentient creatures.

However, since he had finally junctioned and no longer had to constantly fear doing magic without an excuse, his training schedule had kicked into overdrive.  On top of logging Training Hours- as a Class Tango he had to log at least fifteen hours per week- Harry was also _ever so pleased_ to learn that his Empathy was evolving with his body.  Empaths went through roughly three stages, according to what Eden had gleaned from his borrowed memories. 

Oh, going through his inherited memories was Eden’s newest entertainment.   Since she didn’t actually _need_ to sleep and found the memories amusing- or so she said.

(Eden quietly threaded her Breath through the darkest memories and buried them far, far away from her Light.  It was the least that she could do, after all.)

Awakening was when the Empath ability surfaced, which Harry had already gone through.  Then, with the onset of puberty came Progression, which was where the ability adapted and developed into whatever form of Empathy that person would end up with for the rest of their life.  Progression didn’t truly settle until about the age of nineteen or twenty- depending on the person- and until then the ability could and would continue to develop.  Around nineteen or twenty- when the Empathy finally stopped evolving- it Matured, which was the final stage.  Usually there was a period- anywhere from a few weeks to a few years- where the Empathetic gifts would even out before one final, sudden Progression period occurred.

Harry also had his still rather newly-bequeathed Sorcerer powers to deal with as well.  Also his Earth magic which inched closer to freedom every day.

So, really, he was _beyond tired_ and just wanted to _sleep_ until his body _quit aching_ and doing _strange things at entirely random moments_ and his magic _settled the Ifrit down_.  Preferably _after_ he found his Knight and these _stupid headaches_ went away as well.

Harry groaned and fixed his glasses even as he heeded Eden’s gentle encouragements- along with Quez’s encouraging chirrups, even if Harry sort of hated the little GF and his perkiness for a few moments out of sheer principle- and began to struggle to his feet.  It was a slow process, and he dropped Kenna twice before he fully managed to get his muscles firmly back under his control.  _Ugh.  My whole body aches._   He thought sluggishly as he policed his area- he had been practicing with a Standard Galbadian Infantry Rifle- SGR1- earlier, so he needed to make sure he hadn’t missed any casings, even though he’d already turned in the weapon.  Well, technically he didn’t _have_ to, but he was a cheapskate and the Cadets were given bonus gil at the end of the month based upon the amount of debris they turned in to the Salvage Quartermaster.

Thus, his dogged hunt for the elusive little brass casings despite his exhaustion.

_I still have homework for Battle Tactics and Ancient Centran before I can go to sleep._   Harry realized with no small amount of exhaustion, the knowledge of the looming homework nearly making him want to cry, despite it not being truly mentally taxing _.  Instructor Gains’ worksheets are nearly mind-numbing but they’re so Hyne-dammed time consuming._ Harry mentally lamented as he sluggishly made his way back towards Garden proper, his steps dragging and his overtiredness making his already-throbbing headache even more intense.

_There will be time for that later._   Eden’s voice broke through the exhausted gloom of his mind quite briskly.  _You are exhausted, My Light, you will rest._

_But-_   Harry began to protest, only for Eden’s firm voice and an admonishing chirp from Quez to cut him off before he could continue.

_You will rest, My Light._   Eden repeated firmly, her tone brooking no argument.  _You are fully aware of how much pressure your mind and body are under and I will not see you push yourself to the brink of insanity for ridiculous worksheets and a language that I spoke long before those ridiculous textbook writers deemed them experts on Celian!_

Even as tired as he was, Harry grinned a little at Eden’s now-familiar rant.  While she might not remember much of her life before she became Eden, the language of her people was something she would never forget.  Eden seemed to take the mistakes that had been made in translating the surviving Centran texts personally, despite her admitting that she spoke a version of Centran that came far before what they were likely learning about in class- despite the ‘Ancient Centran’ class name.  At any rate, Eden’s impassioned rants about the subject were always entertaining for both Harry and Quez.

_Alright, you win._   Harry assured her certainly, mechanically filling out the forms from the SQ- giving the bored man behind the desk a polite nod- before Harry nimbly made his way towards his dorm.

Eden’s aura of smugness actually made his headache a little less intense, surprisingly enough.

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Squall Leonhart surreptitiously tracked Westron as the other boy moved through the halls, seemingly on auto-pilot.  The other Cadet’s _hair_ even seemed droopy this evening, and Squall idly wished he could get an angle on Westron’s face so he could try to discern the reason why.  The brunet had been surprised to find that Westron was only a month older than him- and, consequently, nearly eight months younger than Almasy-  as the other boy was two classes ahead of him.  Well, Squall had just entered Cadet Class Sierra this term and still had a few classes he had to complete with the Echo Cadets, so even though there was only one Cadet Class difference they were anywhere between one to three years apart in terms of the SeeD Training Program, assuming Westron took the usual two years to complete Yuna’s training regimen.

Given how much time the other boy had been training recently, Squall wasn’t sure that that would be the case.

Squall preferred to be alone.  He didn’t like forming attachments with people who always wanted him to _talk_ and _do_.  There was also an ever-increasing sense of rivalry among the Cadets, compounded by the onset of puberty and the nonsensical romantic entanglements of his fellow students.  Those situations were full of drama and he-said, she-said and just tripe.  Squall simply had better things to do with his time and had perfected his ‘get-to-the-point-or-leave-me-alone’ glare expressly for the purpose of keeping himself uninvolved.  It also helped that Squall _enjoyed_ training and working towards his goals. 

However, contrary to popular belief, SeeD was not his end-all be-all life goal.

Sure, he wanted to rise through the ranks and be the best- his goal was to be an A-Level SeeD Gunblade Specialist before he retired from the force.  But his goals didn’t mean that SeeD was the _only_ thing Squall wanted to accomplish in his life.  He had dreams sometimes of a warm house near a sandy beach- though the dreams became fewer and fewer as time passed- but one thing that he always remembered from those dreams was his childish desire to _explore_.  To go wherever he wanted and beat up monsters and rescue princesses and _discover things_.

No, Squall had no desire to spend his entire life inside a mercenary force, even if Garden was the only home he’d ever known. 

Yet, despite his stubborn spurning of people and their incumbent madness he couldn’t help but feel a bit drawn to the sable-haired Westron.  Squall had noticed that Almasy- for all the blonde played at being an arrogant jackass, he was damn perceptive no to mention Squall’s favorite sparring partner, despite the blonde’s annoying commentary- had noticed the other teen’s strange pull as well, as the blond often tracked the other Cadet’s movements with a speculative look in his eyes.

That, in and of itself, was a rather telling statement as Almasy had a bad tendency of antagonizing and-or disparaging people who advanced faster than him.  So Almasy’s mostly-neutral contemplation was just another thing about Westron that made Squall curious.

Westron turned the final corner that would take him to his dorm- and therefore out of Squall’s line-of-sight – just as Squall finished that thought.  Unable to follow any further as his dorm was in the opposite direction, though on the same floor, Squall stuffed his hands in his pockets and scowled.

_Just what is going on with Westron and why does he always look so tired?_   He wondered as he casually shifted his practice weapon- he was saving up to buy his own- and punched in his room’s access code.  _And why do I even care?_

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For all that Harry felt as if he was engaged in a losing battle with his sense of time management, term seemed to nearly _crawl_ by.  That wasn’t to say that Harry wasn’t busy- because he _was_ , during his every waking moment and then a few more hours after he closed his eyes- but there seemed to be a weight pressing down on him that made his world warp and distort.  It was almost as if someone had turned on one of the classroom projection drives and had both the fast-forward and the frame-by-frame on at the same time!

He knew what was causing the strange phenomena- or at least the greatest offender to his sense of inner peace and mental well-being- the lack of his Knight.

The fact that as time wore on he began to lose hope that there would _ever_ be any decent prospects only exacerbated the issue.

Eden and Quez were _wonderful_ , _amazing_ companions and they helped- _a lot_.  However, for all that they managed to _soothe_ the ever-present ache that constantly hovered anxiously at the edges of his awareness- whether he was awake or asleep- they never quite managed to _ease_ it.  They were magnificent at helping Harry and keeping him from sliding too far down the path of melancholy and hopeless feelings, but the fact of the matter was that Harry was a Sorcerer and he _needed_ his _people_.

The constant sense of longing made him more tired than he already was and only seemed to emphasize all the aches and pains he felt- whether they be mental, emotional, or physical.   After another especially exhausting sluggishly fast-paced day, Harry gratefully sank into his mindscape with a heavy heart as soon as he closed his eyes- before his head had even hit his pillow, actually.

“Come here, My Light.”  Eden murmured gently as she appeared and- after smoothly taking control of the space from her exhausted Light- changed the grey, drab ethereal space into a field full of flowers and sunshine, complete with a still pond ringed by vibrant grass and tall, proud Eldermoss trees sprawling out in an elegant backdrop.  The pond was clear and cleverly lined with a type of bluish-green stone that only served to make the light that danced off the surface even more remarkable.  Eden cradled her Light to her, allowing the sable-haired teen to rest his head against the curve of her shoulder as she patiently guided him towards the natural shale colored rocky outcropping that jutted out over the edge of the western side of the pond.  It was a forest clearing from deep within her own memories of the time before she was Eden, but she remembered always feeling safe and warm in this place, so she hoped her Light could take comfort in it also. 

Once they were seated comfortably on the sun-warmed rock, Quez having joined them with a worried chirrup, Eden arranged herself and her precious cargo to sit comfortably in the natural curve of the rock- the GF having rolled up her Light’s pajama pant legs slightly to prevent them from getting wet from the calf-deep water that lapped playfully around them as the whisper-quiet beats of Quez’s wings discreetly ruffled the surface of the pond’s waters. 

Eden began to speak in a soothing, wistful tone after allowing for along moment of comfortable silence.  “Before I became Eden, when I was still a Centran Sorceress, there were stories about the Divines, a race of people that were barely a memory even to us back then.”  The tired teen made a soft noise of interest, but didn’t open his eyes and Eden gently toyed with Harry’s fringe and gazed sightlessly out at the waters as she tried to recall the details of the stories she had been told as a child. 

“The stories handed down by the Bards told of a society wherein there were both Sorcerers and Sorceresses.  Legend told of a time when the Sorceresses ruled the Eastern Plainslands while the Sorcerors ruled the mighty Northern Mountains.  For many years they lived in peace, despite being rather bitter enemies and holding nearly opposite ideologies.”  Eden brought the palm of her hand- the ones not holding her Light- up to her mouth, closing her eyes briefly and furrowing her brow in concentration before she gently blew out a green and blue swirled breath.

Quez landed beside and cocked his avian head to the side slightly and nudged Harry until the teen opened his tired eyes to witness the mist of Eden’s Breath coalescing into a small replica of what she had been speaking of on top of the surface of the pond.  It was opaque but passable as an illustration, and as always Harry felt some of his exhaustion recede as small tendrils of Eden’s breath soaked into his skin.

Satisfied with her Contruct and her interested audience, Eden continued her story.  “The two societies- the Bards always called them the Plainspeople and the Stonelords- probably would have continued with their uneasy peace had it not been for the Renounced.”  Eden created a few more creations, highlighting the area between the Plainslands and the Mountains.  “Legend speaks of a faction of people who were cast out of either society and came together to form their own- the Renounced.  The Bards all held conflicting stories on what happened next- but the next thing they all agreed on was that the Plainspeople’s home was destroyed with most of their Sorceresses and the survivors sought sanctuary with the Stonelords.”

Eden changed her Contruct a little to reflect her story.  “The Stonelords were hesitant- old prejudices are not easily forgotten, after all- but their Heir appealed to them and they begrudgingly let the survivors into their lands.  Years passed and the survivors became a tolerated- though somewhat distrusted- part of the Stonelords’ society.  However, the old hate flared up violently when the Heir fell in love with a young Sorceress and announced his intention to marry her- an entirely unheard of course of action, condemned by nearly everyone.  The Heir went through with his plan, however, and married her anyways, and they eventually had a son. 

The Renounced had not been idle, however, and used the violent upheaval caused by the Heir’s actions to their advantage, and in the dead of night they stole the child from his cradle.  The Heir raged and looked for his child ceaselessly, but died not long after in the civil war that broke out in earnest.  The young wife- alone and surrounded by those who loathed her and a considered a traitorous whore by her own people- went before the hostile Court and made her request: a party of companions that would go with her on her quest to reclaim her child.”

“Bet they just jumped all over that.”  Harry muttered with a small grin up at Eden, his mind going back over his recent classes in Hostage Negotiations and Pre-Conflict Resolution.

“Indeed.”  Eden agreed with a small smile, absently patting Quez on the head when the avian GF chose that moment to pop up behind Eden’s shoulder and burrow his chin in Harry’s hair.  Ignoring Harry’s muttered ‘just because it looks like a bird’s nest, doesn’t mean it is one, Quez’, Eden continued her tale.  “The Court rejected her request quite cruelly, but then the young Sorceress gained an unlikely ally when the girl who _should_ have been married to the Heir spoke out in the young Sorceresses’ defense.  ‘I will lend my aid to this quest.’ The girl whom the Heir wronged called forth calmly.  ‘But only if the price I exact from my services remains between the two of us.  Only to be paid upon the successful return of the young Prince.’  The young Sorceress agreed without hesitation and before long the party departed.”

“That’s it?”  Harry asked Eden curiously. “I expected…I dunno, more than just……. _that_.”  He fluttered his hand slightly to emphasize his point.

Eden let out a bright, short laugh and Quez chuffed a little in amusement, burrowing a little deeper into Harry’s hair as he did so.  “There’s not a great deal of information between that part and the end, I’m afraid.  The Divines were legends even to my people- who are now passing into legend to yours.  At any rate, the party eventually discovers the whereabouts of the lost boy, but at the cost of everyone’s lives except the young Sorceress and the woman she displaced.  When they arrived at the heart of the Renounced’s lands, they found that they had been attempting to drain the powers from all of the Sorcerers and Sorceresses and harness them into artificially crafted weapons.  Most of the Bards agreed that the Renounced’s reasoning was along the lines of ‘if I can’t have it, no one can’, but at any rate the two women discovered the boy among the thousands of others who had been kidnapped for the self-same purpose.

In the end the young Sorceress sacrificed herself for the woman she had displaced and her son- the Sorceress’ powers obliterating the land itself when she died, effectively wiping the accursed area from the face of the planet.  The woman took the boy back to his home, but by the time she returned it had fallen to a new regime, mostly due to the organization of the Renounced, who used the civil war to their advantage.  The woman raised the boy as her own and often told him stories of those who had died to see him free.  However as the boy grew, so did the instability in his magic.  The woman-desperate to save him- returned to the area where she had stashed the information that she’d had on her person at the time of their escape, with whatever was within them she formulated a plan.

It is said that when the boy awoke in the middle of the home he’d grown up in with the woman he had known as his mother dead at her own hand, he screamed for days.  In the letter she left him, she explained everything- who he was, where he came from, how his unusual powers came to be and such- and the boy left to wreak vengeance on those who had taken so much from not only him, but many other families.  Eventually, with the help of those he gathered along the way- they called themselves ‘the Knights of the Shattered’- he triumphed.  The lands- forever changed and scarred from the century of violent strife- began to heal and the people settled, finally free.”

Harry was still interested, but Eden saw that he was slipping off into deep sleep, so she hurried to finish.  “At the end of his life, Hyne discovered that whatever had been done to him had changed his magic more than he had ever realized.  When he was struck down, his body erupted into spheres of lights and those lights sank into nearby women.  In deference to Hyne’s many accomplishments, the people who stepped forward to assist these newly-born Sorceresses- who quickly began to display mental instability, excessive paranoia, and other acute symptoms of distress- were called Knights. In the ensuing years the Governing Council proclaimed that a Sorceress- for no males had been chosen, no matter what they tried- was to have a number of Knights equal to the amount of spheres that were gifted to her upon her predecessor’s passing. “

“So.”  Harry murmured sleepily into Eden’s shoulder.  “Basically this whole Sorceress-and-successor thing came about because some jerks wanted to weaponize a naturally occurring resource?”

“Well, that’s one way to look at it.”  Eden allowed with a brief smile as she ran tender fingers through Harry’s fringe- Quez was still contently nested on the teen’s head.  “I just wanted you to know that even though it seems hopeless sometimes, things will work out, My Light.”  Eden pressed a gentle kiss to Harry’s brow and let him fade into deep unconsciousness, her fingers remaining in his hair for hours afterwards as she reflected over the unfairness of it all and how much she wished she could just grab one of the Potentials and announce that they now belonged to her precious Light so he could stabilize!

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Eden’s tale had managed to soothe some of Harry’s more outlandish fears and allowed him to somewhat find his metaphorical footing, but even knowing that he wasn’t the freak among freaks didn’t _entirely_ assuage his pressing fears that he would never find a Knight and would therefore _go mad._

However, the amount of good it managed helped Harry get through the subsequent weeks without strangling anyone or bursting into tears from dropping his spear accidentally.

Harry had been _horrified_ and slightly shaken by the sudden, almost overwhelming overreaction and had been profoundly happy that he had been alone in the training grounds, where the extremely disturbing expressions that no doubt crossed his face went unnoticed.

Or so he thought.

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Fujin- no, she _didn’t_ have a family name, _thank you very much_ \-  watched from her hidden little spot between a diving wall and the training ground’s fence, her red eye fixed on the walking enigma that was Harry Westron.

When she had first met the other teen- nearly a year ago now- she had been rather determined _not_ to like him. 

Fujin had arrived at Garden as a Galbadia transfer nearly three years ago.  Fujin had never known her mother, but she sure as hell knew her father and that Hyne-dammed _whore_ that called herself his wife.  Fujin’s hand unconsciously came up to trace the eye patch that covered her left eye for a moment, before she realized what she was doing and shook her head sharply.  _Focus_.  She told herself sharply, her uncovered eye tracking Westron’s movements critically.

Her arrival at Balamb Garden had gone until she’d accidentally bumped into one of the upperclassmen on her way to her newly-assigned Barracks.  The girls had gotten extremely upset- she’d apparently been headed for a date or something- and had tried to hit Fujin for causing the mess that had decorated her previously unmarred shirt after the brief collision.  Fujin had reacted instinctively, grabbing the bitch’s outstretched arm and twisting until she heard the distinctive snap of bone before Fujin had twisted around and then judo flipped the girl over her shoulder.

The entire hallway- which had stopped to watch- had stared in horrified fascination at the tiny silver-haired midget who had just neutralized a girl nearly twice her size and known to be aggressive.

One of the girl’s friends had come up in Fujin’s blind side while the girls had been staring dully down at the downed, defeated bitch on the floor only to be intercepted by Seifer Almasy.

“Hey.”  Seifer had drawled in that I’m-better-than-you tone of voice that he was so fond of using- a tone of voice she would become an expert on dissecting and analyzing in order to better understand the blond.  “In case you hadn’t noticed, the midget had the right of way.  Sure, she reacted a little violently, but so did your girl.  Back off.”

Fujin had watched in something akin to morbid fascination as expressions of disgust or revulsion danced over the features of the onlookers when they looked at the blond.  She had absently noted how the aforementioned blond took their hate and discontent with a bright, sarcastic smile sharp enough to cut diamond and snarky commentary packed with enough dry wit to fill a dessert.

It still hadn’t saved him from her instinctive action of punching him in the gut when he went to drape an arm around her, though.

Instead of getting angry, though, Seifer had grinned down at her with honest amusement dancing in his green eyes.  He’d gone on to say something sarcastic and witty, but Fujin hadn’t really heard him.  Because in the moment between him turning to face her and him opening his mouth to speak, Fujin was granted a rare glimpse into just _who Seifer Almasy was_ underneath the layers he painstakingly wove around himself.

Fujin had still been broken then, had still been stuck halfway between who she wanted to be and the _clusterfuck_ that was her past, but over the next year Seifer- and then Raijin, the burly teen with the bulging muscles and the disgustingly gentle nature who had unexpectedly backed Seifer up when his mouth had gotten him into the kind of trouble that came armed with knives and numbers- had become something more than a friend, more than a brother- but platonic all the same.  Fujin loved both Seifer and Raijin fiercely, with the sort of all-consuming devotion that made people do stupid, illogical things and she honestly couldn’t imagine her life without her boys in it. 

She had nightmares sometimes, about Seifer, Raijin, and Garden all being part of an elaborate dream she was having while her body laid connected to a mess of machines in the hospital while that _whore_ cried at her bedside and pretended to _fucking care_.

Fujin very deliberately _did not_ think about her deepest, darkest fear and instead refocused onto Westron’s now-trembling form. 

The teen had sat with the posse in the Mess the first day he’d been introduced, but had respected her demand and hadn’t pushed to be included.  Aside from a few encounters in passing, Westron had left the posse alone, even though they usually gathered in his and Raijin’s dorm, as both Seifer and Fujin’s roommates were _absolute terrors_.   At first Fujin had been satisfied by this, and had expected to be proved right- about her assumption that Westron would quickly become one of ‘them’- by watching the idiot try to take advantage of Rai’s somewhat simplemindedness and blend in with the one of the other ‘acceptable’ little cliques.  She had been confident in her assessment, given that the boy looked like a pretty-boy city boy and had been placed with the Sierra Cadets, despite his young age.

But Harry Westron hadn’t lived up- or down, as it were- to any of her expectations, and to Fujin who prided herself on the accuracy of her People Predictions- it had both pissed her off and intrigued her to have been so wrong about a person.  Seifer’s constant vacillation between annoyance and empathy had only increased her interest- as she had expected the blond to find Westron’s every minute imperfection and use it as ammunition to fuel her dislike- and Raijin’s occasional borderline-concerned comments about his quiet, rather socially shunned roommate had only managed to confuse her further.

Therefore she had taken the most obvious route and had decided to unobtrusively observe the teen, because surely they were being played.  It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to pull that sort of ‘prank’ on one of them.

Her efforts had been……disturbing.  Disturbing to witness, disturbing to process.

Harry Westron was not only a genuinely kind, painfully honest person he was also an extreme amount of stress.  Fujin- with Seifer’s help- had hacked into the Garden database and found that Westron was an orphan, so that had ruled out family pressure.  He seemed to be subsisting fine on Garden’s rather generous allowance- after a Cadet reached Sierra the amount of gil they were given every month nearly doubled and there were tons of supplementary little incentive that could be used to gain additional gil as well- and was generally neutrally accepted by his peers. 

Neutral acceptance was a rather powerful statement, as Westron’s young age should have made him prime bullying material.  Westron was the target of some bullies, true, but not nearly as many as he should have been.  As a matter of fact, the prodigy Quistis Trepe had far more enmity directed towards her than Westron did.  Some of that probably had to do with Westron’s quiet presence and humble- or distracted- nature.  Trepe had a tendency to stand out and be noticed, but from what Fujin had gathered about the girl’s family, that was partially done to sate their rather demanding, exacting standards.

At any rate, Westron was rather isolated and not in the Leonhart get-out-of-my-space sort of way.  Westron seemed to be _trying_ to make friends, but people had a tendency to use the boy and then fade out on him.  In recent months that had begun to offend Fujin on a _personal_ level, and she knew for a _fact_ that both Seifer and Raijin had noted and been subsequently irritated by the same issue as well.

Fujin blew out a quiet breath and _finally_ admitted to herself that she had been _entirely wrong_ and that she wouldn’t mind getting to know- or somewhat forcefully absorbing into the posse- Harry Westron, even with all of his secrets and inconsistencies.

How does one go about making friends with a distant, distracted boy with more secrets than Hyne and a tendency to flinch away from unexpected skin contact, anyways?

Fujin’s lips curled into a small smile as she took in the form casually strolling towards the exhausted Westron.

_Looks like I won’t have to plan out our first contact._   She mentally applauded, even as she prepared to plot out her- and the posse’s- next course of action based on whatever events unfolded.

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After the end of the day’s final class, Seifer had cheerfully snagged Squall- blithely ignoring the other teen’s annoyed grunting and muttered ‘ _whatevers’_ with long-practiced ease- and headed towards the training grounds.  While it wasn’t overly strange for Seifer to be dragging Squall off to spar- they were the only two gunblade students currently attending Garden, after all- it was somewhat interesting that they were headed in the _opposite_ direction of their usual sparring haunts.

Fujin had been stalking Westron for nearly two months, which meant that Seifer was fairly confident that he knew the other teen’s routines better than Westron himself did.  Fujin had taken her erroneous assessment of Westron’s character rather badly- and in truth, Seifer could understand why.  Fujin had nearly a sixth sense with people and for her to have been so wrong…..

Well, at any rate Seifer had finally decided that he was tired of being wishy-washy about things and if the only connection he could form with Westron was the slightly antagonistic rival- like what he’d done with Squall- then that’s exactly what would happen. 

Despite his seemingly arrogantly aloof, indifferent nature Seifer was a romantic at heart.  With dreams of being like the Knights of old who fought with honor and pride in defense of their Sorceresses, Seifer held every connection that he allowed into his heart fiercely.  He cherished his friends and was more than happy to be the focus of the ridicule of others if that meant Fujin and Raijin were able to walk the halls without censure.  It made him feel important- needed- when Fujin would slide behind him as he strolled through the masses, knowing that the fact that she trusted him enough to stand in front of her was a statement of just how deeply she cared for him.  Raijin didn’t need Seifer’s intimidating physical presence, but the way the big guy gratefully patted his shoulder after Seifer had patiently explained something for the _fifth_ time without Raijin having to ask made Seifer feel like he could manage to rise above and actually _accomplish_ his rather lofty dreams.

It wasn’t purely his competitive nature that fueled his rivalry with Squall Leonhart, after all.  Seifer remembered Leonhart as a child, growing up in Edea’s Orphanage.  He had lost a lot of the little details about the place, but he remembered Matron and Uncle Cid.  Seifer attributed the memory loss to growing up and not wanting to clearly recall all of the couples who had passed over him when they had come looking for potential orphans to take into their homes.  Seifer remembered little Squall- before Squall’s foster sister had been adopted out without him- and how much that event had hurt the brunet.  He couldn’t recall what the other girl looked like, but he remembered dragging a quietly broken Squall back up from the secret cove- where he’d sit for hours waiting for his sister to come back for him- and being accused of bullying the younger boy by the other kids.

Squall hadn’t said anything to defend him, but Seifer hadn’t truly been surprised, as the brunet had retreated deeply into himself by that time.  Squall had always been quiet, after all, but even angry and hurt Squall had allowed Seifer to get closer than any of the others, so Seifer had endured.

After they had closed down the Orphanage and _Uncle Cid_ had become _Headmaster Cid_ \- the details of that time were indistinct at best and muddled at worst- Seifer had been separated from Squall, as Garden was quite large and had several different pre-Cadet class groups.  By the time they had encountered one another again, Seifer had been disheartened by the lack of recognition in Squall’s eyes and had lashed out against the other instinctively, neatly beginning their now well-established rivalry.  Seifer knew that Squall appreciated him, even if the brunet was so emotionally stunted he couldn’t properly express himself, as the tension would bleed out of Squall’s shoulders and his whole being would seem just a little lighter after one of their sparring sessions.

Then again, that might just be Seifer’s romanticism talking.

At any rate, the two gunblade specialists finally made it past the tree line that marked the boundary for one of the outlying training grounds, and Seifer was rewarded with the sight of a panting, sweating Harry Westron.  “Hey, Westron!”  Seifer called out, finally releasing Squall and allowing the other to reestablish his nearly laughably exaggerated amount of preferred personal space.  “Up for a spar?”

Westron turned to face them and for a moment Seifer forgot to _breathe_. 

The eyes that Westron turned onto them eyes weren’t that of a teen, but that of an old, broken man.  The fragile, brittle, _lost_ person that Seifer glimpsed in that brief moment made every single one of his protective instincts surge and something deep within his body utterly rejected the very existence of such a look.

Seifer was somewhat comforted by the way Squall seemed to be equally uneasy.

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Harry had just finished the mid-way point of his workout when he felt two people approach from his right.  He knew that there was someone watching him from the left and just behind him, but that presence had been observing him for weeks so he had learned to mostly ignore it.  The two approaching ones, however, were painfully familiar and Harry’s heart wrenched a little even as he heard Seifer Almasy call out to him.

He looked up to see Seifer Almasy and Squall Leonhart standing a short distance away from him, their gunblades securely strapped to their backs, wearing rather peculiar expressions.

“I use a spear.”  Harry felt the need to point out as he straightened and turned to face them properly.  His headache throbbed and between the physical pain his body was in and the metaphysical pain his soul was in as he stood so close and yet so far made him want to vomit, pass out or both.

Seifer grinned widely and crossed his arms in front of his chest, slouching a little as he did so.  “Yeah, and?  Our gunblades have reach and the ability to fire blunt blasts, but I’ve seen you in your Exhibition Matches, man.  You’re fast and tricky, able to use your weapon to your advantage even when you should be at a disadvantage.”  Seifer shrugged and uncrossed his arms, lifting one hand to the handle of his gunblade as he offered Harry another easy, charming grin.  “Fighting you would be fun _and_ educational.”

“Sparring.”  Squall broke in quietly, his voice soft but easily heard.  “ _Sparring_ with you would be fun and educational.”  Squall gave Seifer a reproving side-eyed glace, but it just bounced off the blond’s entirely unaffected demeanor.

Harry blinked slowly a few times, but Eden’s encouraging murmurs and Quez’s approving chirps had him agreeing before he really thought about it.  “Sure.  No magic, just blades, alright?”

Seifer’s grin turned excited and even Squall seemed to perk up a bit.  “Sure, sure.”  Seifer agreed amiably before he turned to Squall.  “Flip for it?”

“No.”  Squall answered with a slight shake of his head.  “I’ll watch the first match.”  Glancing at a rather puzzled-looking Harry, Squall elaborated.  “We’re both speed fighters, so I’d like to watch and get a better feel for how you move first.”

“Well-“ 

“Sounds good to me.”  Harry cut Seifer’s comment off with a rather tired-looking, but genuinely amused grin.  Harry waved a hand at Squall who got the picture and obligingly moved a decent distance away before squatting down to observe the two fighters.  Harry dropped into a fighting stance and moved towards Seifer at a decent pace, trying- and failing- to smother his bark of delighted laughter at the pout the blond offered him for continuing to obstruct Seifer’s attempts at commentary.

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	4. Chapter 4

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Eden figuratively held her breath as she kept a wary eye on Harry’s rhythmic breathing.  After a few tense minutes of uneasy silence she exchanged a grateful glance with Quez before sinking down to her knees and fairly panting from exertion.

Harry’s school term had ended and it was now the Winter Solstice holidays- whatever the humans were celebrating those as nowadays- and her adorable Light was still working just as hard as he had been while his school had still been in session.  _Well_ , Eden amended mentally as she rose to her feet and prepared to ward off yet another nightmare-memory, _Harry is actually working harder now because he longer has classes to sit in and do repetitive, time-consuming worksheets for._   Eden steadily held against the nightmare-memory while Quez swirled around and unleashed a windy lightning attack at it, which caused it to disperse into wisps of black ether. Eden then unleashed her Breath on the persistent tendrils of black ether, summarily banishing her foe into the depths of the ‘negative zone’ that Eden had created to host everything she felt inappropriate for her beloved Light’s mind to hold. 

Oh, Eden would never withhold something from her Light should he ask her directly, but she was a _Guardian Force_.  To Eden, mentally safeguarding her Light was just as paramount as safeguarding him in battle- triply so as her Light was currently precariously navigating the slippery slopes of an all-consuming vortex of insanity.  A single misstep right now could send him tumbling down into the roiling waters below and Eden was fairly certain that she would not be able to save him from himself if that were to happen.

Regularly sparring with the two Potentials had helped only slightly more than it hurt, all things considered.

It helped in that their natural abilities to ground a Sorceress’s powers- well, Sorcerer’s powers- automatically helped bleed off excess built-up power simply due to proximity- and that ability only became more efficient when they sparred with Harry.  ‘Grounding’ was a talent that some people were simply born with- they had existed for as long as people had, according to the Bards from Eden’s pre-GF childhood.  Back in the times of the Divines, prior to the Rebellion of the Renounced, those with the in-born Grounding talent were usually sought after as teachers or healers.  As far as the pre-GF Eden had known the population was divided among the Sorceresses, the Grounding-capable, and the rest of the population.

Truthfully Eden thought that the so-called Blue Witches that Harry had learned about were women who were born with the potential to be a Sorceress and also carried an equally strong Grounding trait.  She hypothesized that if the two opposite inborn traits were of roughly equal strength than a third option would appear. 

But that was purely speculation on Eden’s part.

 _At any rate, the two Potentials are both strong and capable_.  Eden thought as she walked a slow circuit around the perimeter of Harry’s mindscape, her eyes trained on the shadowy areas just beyond, seeking to see if the nightmare-memories would seek to try to slip passed her defenses yet again.  _They both have a firm, instinctive grasp of a Knight’s need to understand that their Sorceress is carrying too much power and it needing to be bled off of them, in order to lessen the strain on the Sorceresses mind._   Eden wrinkled her nose _.  Sorcerer’s mind.  Hyne I keep forgetting that!_

Quez huffed a chirp that sounded suspiciously like a laugh as the smaller GF made one more circuit in the air before settling down on a nearby rock.

Eden tossed Quez an amused look, but resumed her patrolling.  _However, being so close and yet so far from two of his Potential Knights causes my Light an extreme amount of emotional- and therefore mental- strain._   Eden sighed and went to join Quez on his rock _.  I really wish they’d just Bond already so that the Knights would be properly connected to my Light and consequently be able to Ground him even without constant close proximity or the need for sparring.  The excess magic being bled off would decrease the- nearly ridiculous- amount of mental and emotional strain my Light in under and the bled off magic would also buoy the two Knights.  With his Empathy and Earth Magic I am not entirely certain of what will happen exactly, but I imagine those traits would only enhance the traditional Knight’s Bond._

Eden’s mental ruminations were cut short as a small spiral formed in the darkness just beyond the light of the mindscape.  Before it even finished forming both Eden and Quez were on their feet and battle ready.

Nothing would disturb Harry’s rest.  Not on their watch.

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Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead firmly, trying to drive back the encroaching migraine.

Garden closed for almost a month for the Winter Holidays.  The last two weeks of December and the first two weeks of January, no matter which dates that happened to encompass. 

For Harry it was bittersweet.  Not quite enough time to justify a trip to Trabia, but long enough for his thoughts to wander.  So he endeavored to keep himself busy by doubling the amount of studying he had been doing during term.  Having been at Garden for a little over a year he could predict most of the essays his Instructors would be setting in the coming term- especially as he had filched and then copied Xu’s class syllabi, Xu being a class rotation ahead of him- so he was steadily working through what amounted a semester’s worth of research papers and other academia-related things so that he could concentrate more on honing his weapon’s skills.

If he could double up on his weapons proficiency he could potential take the SeeD Exam next December instead of the spring after next.

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose irritably as he tried to _will_ away the now _roaring_ migraine that had been gradually mounting behind his eyes.  It had been a few days since he had left his room for more than bathroom breaks- he had instant ramen and the small, cheap microwave that he’d bought in Balamb a few months back on a weekend- and he was really starting to feel the strain.  Harry wasn’t even sure if Almasy had stayed for the break, but he had seen Leonhart around a few times.  As his migraine started to make him feel like his eyes were about to liquefy and slide out of his sockets to form piles of agony on his Tactics III textbook, Harry nearly cried.  Logically he knew that most of the strain was because he was a freaking _Sorcerer_ and he needed _Knights_ and on top of that he was a _Hyne-dammed Empath_ stuck inside _a building full of adolescents_ and it was only a _matter of time-_

The teen tried to corral his errant thoughts, tried to put his problems back into the neatly labeled boxes he’d made for them, but this time they were not so easily shoved aside.  Harry knew that he needed to get a better grip on himself- knew that he had his final round of psych evaluations coming up just after the holidays- and if he failed them that was _it_.  He would never be able to become a SeeD.  Harry’s file already noted that he had a moderate anxiety disorder with some depressive tendencies, but SeeD was structured in such a manner that that was alright- it just limited the types of missions he would be cleared for.  Since SeeD wasn’t a full-on military, just a mercenary force there were a lot of things that they could work around or with that a traditional military couldn’t or wouldn’t.

There were days when his anxiety bubbled angrily just underneath his skin, amplified by his Empathy and his Sorcerer powers and it was all he could do to force himself out of his bed and down the crowded Garden halls to his lessons.  But some days the shining promise of being able to one day be sent out on missions by himself or with just a few others wasn’t enough to buoy him into action and he’d steal out of the dorm and hide in the training areas all day.

Lately it had been a bit easier to deal with such thoughts- the promise of Leonhart or Almasy and his posse finding him and dragging him into a sparring match or off to get food being enough of a steady fixture in his thoughts to help keep him grounded, but-

- _who would ever want you?  A Sorcerer.  A freak._  The voice sounded much like his Aunt Petunia and Harry- who hadn’t thought about the spiteful woman in years- reached for the memories of his Mom or Eden or Quez but they slipped through his metaphoric fingers and the next thing Harry knew he was sliding down, down, down into the chaotic depths of darkness that was born of his fear and weakness.

 _Shut up.  Shut up.  SHUT UP._   He shouted at the raging tempest as he clapped his hands over his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the Hyne-dammed _noise_.

Harry had slipped so deep inside the darkness that existed within his own thoughts that he hadn’t been able to hear Eden’s panicked shouts for him to _snap out of it_ ; nor had he heard Quez’s worried screeching as the two GFs were caught off-guard by the sudden onslaught of darkness and despair that unexpectedly and viciously washed over Harry’s mind, swathing it in a deep mire of twisted shadows and half-formed nightmares.

Eden had been on the verge of borrowing some of Harry’s Earth Magic and fully materializing when the door to his room burst open and a slightly wild-eyed Seifer Almasy burst inside.

“What the _fuck_ , Westron!”  Almasy snarled, but Harry’s vision wavered and the last thing Eden saw was the horrified look on Almasy’s face.

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Cid Kramer stood patiently observing through the one-way glass as Seifer flipped through the pages of a magazine disinterestedly, sneaking quick glances at the sedated form of Harry Westron about twice ever minute or so.  Squall, on the other hand, sat on the right side of the occupied Infirmary bed, a textbook open on one knee while he balanced a spiral notebook on his other one, shifting restlessly every few minutes and glancing at Westron less often- but no less concernedly- than Seifer was.

 _Squall’s always been more patient than Seifer, even when they were both small children._   Cid smiled a bit sadly at the reminder before retuning his attention to the sedated Cadet on the only bed in the private room. 

Westron’s small form- he hadn’t really grown into himself just yet, still in that horrid stage of transition between early teen and true adolescence-  was nearly dwarfed by the crisply white sheeted bed.  The IV apparatus and the monitoring equipment situated near Westron’s right side only making the Cadet seem much smaller than he already was.  After nearly an entire day of randomly giving Doc Kadowaki near heart attacks Westron’s physical condition had finally stabilized.

The fact that that had occurred shortly _after_ Seifer had managed to sneak himself and Squall inside the room was not lost on Cid.  As a matter of fact that was the final confirmation that had Cid needed to make up his mind.

There were also the wings that had sprouted from the agile Cadet’s back to consider.  Wide, feathery things full of an array of colors that Cid hadn’t even realized could manifest on a Sorceress.  The colors of a Sorceresses wings were usually muted, muddy things that resembled bone or other un-lovely things.  Westron’s wings, however, were not only beautiful they were eerily _angelic_.

Despite all the evidence that said it should be impossible, Harry Westron was a Sorceress- well, _Sorcerer_ , Cid mentally corrected himself.

More than that, Cid had a pretty good guess as to _whom_ Westron had inherited his powers from.

Cid had been a Galbadian soldier once upon a time, during the height of the Sorceress War when Sorceress Adel had been trying to subjugate all of Terra under her absolute rule.  After the Mass Desertions of the Sorceresses who had flocked to Esthar to join Sorceress Adel prior to her true nature being revealed most of Galbadia and the Holy Dollet Empire had been deeply resentful and suspicious of Sorceresses.  While Dollet was a bit more tolerant towards the Sorceresses who had remained loyal- not to say that they weren’t watched closely, because they were- Galbadia had taken a different approach.

One that the general public had never been appraised of- not even to this day.

The current ‘lifetime president’ of Galbadia, Vinzer Deling- how Cid _loathed_ the man- had the mastermind.  Using his cunning mind and his silver tongue the future president convinced a group of like-minded, overtly militant group of people in power that to prevent Sorceress Adel from acquiring more Sorceress powers they needed to implement the Failsafe Strategy.

Cid’s blue eyes grew stormy as he remembered how Edea spoke of what horrors had occurred during the time the Strategy was being implemented. 

 _They took young girls from everywhere and forced them to be nearby while the soldiers and scientists executed any Sorceress they could find over the age of seven.  They then would take the girl that was chosen as the Successor and put her through extreme training, attempting to effectively brainwash the girls into being entirely, unquestionably loyal to Galbadia.   Young men were brought in and either forced into being Knights or executed._   Cid carefully pushed back the bile that formed in his throat as he stared sightlessly at his children, lost in his memories of Edea’s recollections of those dark times.

The scientists had sterilized any of the Successors, a twisted form of control _as what good was a woman who could bear no children?  A Sorceress, at that?  Who could possibly want them for more than a momentary fling?_

However, the Strategy did not work quite as the masterminds had hoped.

The Knight Bonds were forced to form under duress and the magic was far more complex and intricate than the scientists had realized.  Within a year the small company of Sorceresses had dwindled down to just two as the Knights either killed their Sorceresses- as the magic compelled them in order to end her suffering, brought on from the deepest, darkest part of her mind that rebelled against being caged like a beast- or another’s Sorceress, whose Knight then took revenge.

The two Successors who were left grew stronger and stronger and their training grew more brutal in order to ‘keep them under control’.

Yet one can only push magic so far before it snaps and when it did it did so _magnificently_. 

Unfortunately the fallout ended with the two remaining Successors being captured by Sorceress Adel’s forces.  Just before they reached one of the Entry Points to Esthar, however, they were attacked by both militia forces and monsters, which had allowed the girls to escape.  The two had run as fast and as far as they could, but eventually one girl lost her Knight to a sneak attack by a monster and then Edea’s Knight had killed her to prevent her from harming Edea, but lost his life in the process.

Overburdened- physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually- Edea had screamed, long and loud before her world had blacked out and there had been only blissful unconsciousness.  When she had awoken it was to sadly understanding blue eyes framed by gold-blonde hair.

Edea had spent the winter with Layla Westron and her Knight.  The blonde Sorceress had helped Edea heal and regain her internal balance and Edea would never forget the way it felt when Layla power had settled over her, the woman’s Shielding abilities settling over the weary girl like a warm, fuzzy blanket on a snowy day.  Warm and welcoming and gentle the power had soothed Edea’s very _soul_.

It had been one of Kent’s friends- that he had met on his Journey- who agreed to take Edea in that following spring, and though Balamb Town was comfortable and safe Edea had never felt quite as at home there as she had in her mentor’s humble home in the Trabian Mountains. 

Edea had never been overly forthcoming about the next chapter of her life, but Cid knew that she had met a woman named Sienna and the woman had become Edea’s Knight. 

While Knight Bonds were universal in some aspects, the emotional relationship that the Bond was based on was important.  There were Bonds between lovers or based on familial love or even based on mutual greed, as disgusting as that sounded.  The emotions of both the Sorceress and the Knight laid the foundations for how solid, how profound, and how devoted the Bond manifested as.

Actually, Sienna was _still_ Edea’s Knight.

Cid had been a Galbadian soldier, and in his time as a soldier he had become close friends with a man named Martine.

Martine had a little sister named Sienna.

Cid and Martine had been _Galbadian soldiers_ \- _soldiers who were taught to fight without magic, using technology as magic was considered evil and something that needed to be destroyed_.

The first time Cid had met Edea it had been as a favor to Martine, but as time passed and the Sorceress War raged on Martine grew more and more concerned for Sienna’s well-being.  When Cid had decided not to re-enlist, he had become friends with Edea, who he usually hung out with while Martine spent time with Sienna whenever they were on leave.  When Edea had hesitantly asked him how he felt about relationships one night while they were in the kitchen preparing dinner while Martine and his sister were out fetching a movie for after dinner, Cid hadn’t really felt the need to lie.

_“I don’t really feel the need to find a romantic partner.”  Cid told his friend with a self-depreciating smile.  “I know it makes me weird and strange, but the most I really want is someone to have dinner with and discuss things with.  Maybe occasionally sleep next to.”  He’d blushed brightly under her interested stare, shrugging his shoulders awkwardly.  “Sex- well, it’s just not for me, I guess.”_

It had been the next day that Edea and Sienna had sat him down and explained that Edea had too much power to be effectively grounded by one Knight, and how Martine had been getting progressively more vocal about Sienna’s close friendship with Edea.

 _“We can’t tell him that she’s my Knight, no one would really believe us if we did, anyways.”  Edea had explained tearfully, her head nestled on her friend’s shoulder.  “He thinks that something else is going on- and it’s not- but he’d_ kill _Sienna and me before he allowed people to believe that his sister was bent.”  Edea had sniffled and gazed at Cid broken-heartedly.  “I am a lot like you in that I just want a companion, not a lover, really.  I want to take care of children who have been left orphaned by this stupid war.  I just want to live without constantly being afraid!”  At that point she’d burrowed her face deeper into Sienna’s shoulder and the other woman had given Cid a steady, level look._

It had been pretty easy to figure out his plans after that.  Sienna was the First Knight, of course, and her connection to Edea was far more acute, but Cid and Edea’s friendship had allowed for a much less acute but still equitably secure Knight Bond to each other.  When they had gone to open the Orphanage, Sienna had come along as the cook-slash-assistant housekeeper.  When the White SeeD ship had been completed Sienna had gone with Ellone to begin with, Edea joining them later once Balamb Garden had been ready to open.

So, really, with himself being a Second Knight to a Sorceress who had a female First Knight, the possibility of a male Sorcerer wasn’t entirely out of the question.

He had noticed the boy’s power, of course- it was rather difficult not to when one had felt the magic of a Sorceress as intimately as a Knight had.  Not quite as acutely as a First Knight would have, as his connection with Edea had grown weaker from their years apart, but Cid had still known that the boy would need at least two Knights, possibly even a third, though that was nearly preposterous.  It hadn’t really connected until recently- Cid blamed his plethora of other concerns and lack of sleep- but he highly suspected that this young man was the Successor of the sorceress who had saved _his_ Sorceress all those years ago.

One of the chairs screeched as Seifer went to stand up, snapping Cid’s attention back the room in front of him.  He smiled a little as Squall gave Seifer the same annoyed look he’d used to give the blond when Seifer would come up out of the ocean and drip saltwater all over the brunet, who always tried to stay away from the water but would invariably end up soaked one way or another.

Usually through a series of taunts or random ambushes by the mischievous blond.

Cid smiled softly, fondly at the children he’d helped raised before he turned and exited the observation room, nodding genially at Kadowaki on his way passed her.

 _I’ll give them a week._ He decided as he punched in his security code into the elevator’s pop-up keypad.  _If Harry hasn’t formed a Bond by this time next week, then I’ll intervene.  The poor boy is already on the brink of mental collapse or I would let them have more time to resolve things on their own._

Seeing one of Garden’s Security forces waiting by his office door Cid internally groaned and pushed his thoughts of the boys in the Infirmary from his mind.

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Harry came to in fits and starts, disoriented by turns and feeling as if he had utterly forgotten his own name.  He had ‘awoken’ several times before he finally managed to find his way back to his internal dreamscape and connect with Eden and Quez, both of whom were extremely worried.

“My Light!”  Eden all but screamed in relief when he materialized, using her wings to glide to him and sweep him up in a warm embrace.  “My Light you’re alright!  We’ve been so worried!”

“Wh-what happened?”  Harry rasped, leaning weakly into Eden’s hold and vaguely noting Quez’s worried chirrups as the feathery avian-like GF settled near his back.

“Your mind buckled.”  Eden whispered brokenly, her hands shaking even as she ran her fingers through his hair.  “Your mind buckled and I and Quez could barely hold on.  Your Knights came when your magic called to them; they saved you, My Light.”

“No.”  Harry whispered, horrified.  “That’s impossible- I can’t- they can’t-nonononno-“  Harry began to shake and his body began to warp and turn translucent even as he clutched onto Eden’s arms, his eyes teary and blown wide with terror.

A wave of _something_ passed through the dreamscape.  It was…nullifying.  It caused the surroundings- which had been dreary and frothing at the badly-patched seams to stabilize and there was the barest hint of a voice on the winds that swept through and calmed the rapidly developing hurricane that was born of the shattered pieces of Harry’s mind.

Harry had no idea how long he sat there, cradled in Eden’s embrace but slowly- ever so slowly- the pieces began to float and rejoin each other.  The ground slowly became earth and then grassy and then the trees once again took shape.  The sky’s gray finally gave way to stormy blue and the fire that had been eating at the edges flicked out before morphing into the sun.  Light- warm, brilliant, soothing, healing- light rained down on Harry’s skin and slowly the aching weight of unadulterated _agony_ that had been pressing relentlessly against him lessened.

As he felt himself shift back into a functioning sort of state of mind, Harry finally took note of the fact that all of the feathery appendages that were present were not purely Eden’s or Quez’s.  “What?”  He asked confusedly, his head still muddled and fuzzy.

“Like I mentioned, My Light.”  Eden replied patiently, maneuvering them from their knees to a more comfortable seated position as the lake began to reform a short ways away from them.  “Your mind, it buckled.  Your Earth magic tore free at the same exact moment as your Sorcerer powers peaked and your Empathy was unable to deal with all the generations of muddled emotions that came with your full awakening.  Fortunately your bond to your two Potentials was strong enough to call the nearest one to you, though your wings manifested as a way for your Knights to have a much better chance to bleed off your excess magic.  I can sense them near me- us- but since you haven’t opened your eyes I cannot be sure.”

Harry buried his face in Eden’s shoulder and cried.  “I can’t Eden.”  He whispered shakily.  “I can’t.  I’m a freak.  I can’t face them-“

“ _You are not a **freak**_!”  Eden raged, her Breath flooding the area.  “You are a young powerful, man.  You are unique, but you are not unnatural for it!”  Eden waved her hands around and pushed her Light back so she could look into his eyes properly.  “You are My Light.  Are you really going to give up on me, your Mom, your Earth parents because you are afraid to open your eyes and accept help from those who are meant to be your brothers?”

“Brothers?”  Harry asked weakly.

“Knight bonds have several outcomes, but there is always a deep emotion that supports and buoys them.”  Eden explained gently, tugging Harry back to her breast  “My First Knight was-“  Eden’s breath hitched and she tried to push through it.  “-he was my mentor.  My father in all but name.  My Second Knight was my lover.”  Eden’s eyes dimmed and she smiled softly.  “That’s all I really remember.  The nature of those bonds.  I can feel the nature of the two Potentials in reference to you.  Those two are familial based.” 

“That….makes me feel a bit better.”  Harry admitted weakly.  “I mean I admit that I can admire a nice male form, but eventually…..well, I want a family someday.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, My Light.”  Eden soothed gently, her fingers gently scratching Harry’s scalp soothingly.  “But there is also nothing wrong in growing and changing your mind.”

Harry snuggled tighter to Eden and just took a while to rest there.  After he felt somewhat calmer and ready to face life he spoke.  “What now?”

Eden’s hands did not pause in their gentle ministrations.  “Now you wake up.”  She whispered in a gentle tone, threading her Breath into the softly uttered words.

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Harry’s green eyes snapped open for the first time in a week.

“Why _hello_ there, sunshine.”  The voice of Seifer Almasy drawled from Harry’s right.  “About time.”  Papers rustled and Almasy’s blond hair and light green eyes came into existence above Harry’s motionless body.  “How about some water and story time, eh?”

“Whatever.  Don’t be an ass, Seifer.”  Squall Leonhart muttered from somewhere on Harry’s other side.

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